


The moon shines more than usual

by Blanquette



Series: The doctor is in [1]
Category: Monsta X (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Boys Kissing, Coming Out, Fights, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Happy Ending, Healing, Kim Himchan is there too for some reason, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Some Humor, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2018-12-19 09:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 53,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11895147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blanquette/pseuds/Blanquette
Summary: After his suicide attempt, Yoongi ends up in a mental institution with a roommate that has way too many friends.And then, people from his past keep showing up.





	1. Sorry I fell asleep while you were talking

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing this pairing, or anything BTS for this matter, hope it doesn't hurt your soul too much.  
> Also I usually write plot-less crack so this is new.  
> I'm so good at selling my stuff

When Yoongi wakes up, the first thing he sees is a white ceiling, with a turned off neon light staring back at him. As it is way too bright in this room for it to be whichever circle of hell he’ll end up in in the event of his death, he guesses he messed up somewhere along the lines. Sensations come back to him and he finds that he’s hurting too much for it to be over. He tries to sit up, only to find out he can’t, his feet and arms bound to the bed by leathery restraints.

“What the hell?”

He turns his head and there’s a nurse looking at the machineries biping gently at the side of his bed, who offers a sweet smile at his outburst.

“Hello” says the nurse, with too much volume and enthusiasm. Yoongi winces.

“Welcome back.”

“Welcome back to where?”

“To consciousness, I guess?”

“What’s up with those?”

“Ah, when you woke up in the ambulance, you started to thrash and threaten everyone with fiery death, so they had to sedate you and then we decided to bound you to the bed in case you do it again.”

“Can you undo them?”

“I’ll need your doctor’s approval to do so. Now that you’ve awaken she will have things to discuss with you, so I’ll go get her.”

Yoongi sighs. This is too difficult.

The nurse smiles, and quite awkwardly pats him on the head.

“It’s going to be okay”, he says before leaving, and it seems to Yoongi that he really does believe it.

Once the nurse is gone, Yoongi lets his head fall back on the white pillow, trying not to focus on the pain shooting up both his arms and the headache pounding behind his eyelids. The only noises now are the beeping of the machinery and the faint rumor of traffic outside the small window. He tries to guess which hospital he’s in, failing that, tries to remember the events that led him up to that point. He had been in a downward spiral for a while now, a bad spell worse than usual. Nothing special had really happened last night to push him over the edge. Just – he had drunk too much, and… Such weariness had come over him. It wasn’t worth it anymore, he was just so tired.

His thoughts are interrupted by voices in the corridor, and then the same nurse re-enters, followed by a young doctor who shoots a motherly smile at him, asking how he is feeling. Yoongi doesn’t really know what to answer to that, so he stays silent. The doctor doesn’t seem bothered by it, as if she wasn’t really expecting an answer at all. Instead, she grabs a folding chair that was pushed back against the wall, and while the nurse busies himself untying his restraints, the doctor tells him of how his neighbor found him by accident, stepping inside his room when he saw the door wasn’t quite closed, thinking of a robbery. She speaks of the ride in the ambulance, of the operation they performed on his arms, and how they would like to keep him here a bit, if he agrees, because he quite obviously needs help and they are able to provide it – or at least their psychiatric unit is.

Yoongi just nods. It’s too much at once, and he doesn’t really care anyway. They say he will need to sign some papers when he feels better, that for now he should just rest, that the nurse is going to give him some pain medicine and that lunch is in an hour. The doctor apologizes for the tiny room, but they are overcrowded at the moment.

“Yeah”, Yoongi hears himself say, “everyone’s killing themselves these days”.

The doctor doesn’t seem to find that particularly funny, but he sees the ghost of a smile pass on the nurse’s lips, who winks at him over the woman’s shoulder.

“Well, if you need anything, just use the bell button and someone will come right over. We will go over potential treatment and the possibility of being committed here later in the day, but for now, you should rest.”

Some more advice and nodding later, and they are both gone, the door closed. Again, Yoongi stares at the ceiling and its turned off light. He had barely listened, but the doctor’s voice echoes in his head in a continuous loop. She had mentioned being committed there. He thinks on what he has to go back to, a one-room in a crappy goshiwon he can barely afford, a part-time job he’ll lose if he misses one more day (didn’t he already, though?), cold showers in the morning and soggy cereals for dinner because he cannot muster the energy to go down the one floor to the common kitchen. Maybe he could take a break. Maybe they can actually help, pat him on the head, tell him it’s going to be okay and genuinely believe it. He turns on his side, brings his knees up towards his chest. Does his insurance even cover things like this?

Turns out it does, and the doctor tells him he’s going to be part of a program that takes a lot of donations anyway, to cut costs burden on the patients. She smiles at him, tells him it’s good that he decided to stay, that he’s going to be in very capable hands, and Yoongi tunes out halfway through. He signs some papers he doesn’t bother to read, and the doctor tells him he will be moved to his new room the next day. She leaves soon after, when the same nurse he already met gets in to disinfect his wounds and change the bandages. Under the cloths, the skin is raised and reddish, hematomas surging here and there, suturing all over the place. He had really meant it, apparently. Looking at his arms makes him feel faint, so he fixates his gaze on the nurse’s face, who doesn’t seem to mind.

“It’s good you decided to stay. You’re gonna have a roommate though, like you said, everyone’s killing themselves these days. But I’m sure it will do you good.”

“Can you even say that?”

“Maybe not. But you would hate it if I was walking on eggs around you, right?”

Yoongi thinks back on the prudent smiles the doctor gives him, how her voice is always low and monotone, like she’s afraid to hurt his ears if she would speak even a bit louder. He thinks back on the gentle smile of the nurse who brought him his lunch, how she helped him eat with slow gestures as if he was made of glass. Yeah, he had hated it.

“I guess so. What’s your name anyway.”

“Kim Himchan. I already introduced myself but you weren’t listening I guess.”

The name doesn’t ring any bell.

“I actually do the night shift in the psych unit sometimes, so I’ll see you around even after you transfer. Isn’t that nice. Okay, you’re all done.”

He gets up from the folding chair and pats Yoongi’s hair like he did that last time.

“I’m not a kid you know.”

“I know. It makes you feel better though, doesn’t it.”

Himchan goes to pat his hair again with a slight knowing smirk on his lips, and Yoongi tells himself he would have smacked his hand away if only he could have raised it.

 

The nurse who wheels him into his new room a day later isn’t Himchan, and Yoongi wishes he didn’t care. His roommate isn’t there yet, off to an exercise session, according to the nurse. Yoongi hopes in passing that they won’t expect _him_ to exercise. The room is simple enough, a small rectangle separated by a curtain currently tied up against the wall as a mean of providing privacy. Both sides are mirroring each other, with beds set near the curtain, armchairs pushed against the walls for potential visitors and small desks in the corners. One of which is incredibly messy, indicating that his roommate chose the side farthest from the window. A table is set up next to the door on Yoongi’s side, probably where they can take their meals if they don’t want to try out the refectory, and a wardrobe they must share is set in the same space on the other side.

“Your roommate’s name is Lee Minhyuk. He’s been here for some time already, so he knows the facilities well. You can ask him anything.”

Yoongi nods, gets up from the wheelchair and softly pads to the freshly-made bed. He would need to find a way to get his stuff over. The hospital had been able to provide simple clothing but it wouldn’t even be enough for the week. He sits down on the side of the bed, which seems softer than the previous one, and the nurse smiles at him.

“I’ll leave you to it then.”

Another nod, and the door closes on the woman. He has already forgotten her name.

When the door opens again after some time, Yoongi is still sitting in the same place, staring ahead at a Wonder Woman poster his roommate has put up on his wall. A dirty-blond boy stands in the doorway, hand still gripping the door handle. They stare at each other for a while before the boy finally enters and closes the door behind him. Then he smiles, and Yoongi is reminded of Himchan, the way it feels genuine and effortless.

“You must be my new roommate then. Sorry, I forgot what they told me your name was.”

“Min Yoongi.”

“Right. I’m Lee Minhyuk, but you probably already know.”

And then he’s crossing the room and standing in front of Yoongi with easy familiarity.

“Hey, I don’t smell, right? I had exercising, but like, I don’t feel like taking a shower.”

He smells like the outdoor, and that’s what Yoongi says. The guy makes a face.

“Well, I guess the outdoor is fine. I’ve been rolling around in the grass for the better part of the afternoon so I guess it’s normal. Unless it grosses you out. Does it gross you out?”

“Not really.”

“Great. You don’t talk much do you. That’s fine. I talk enough for three people, at least that’s what Kihyun says.”

Yoongi doesn’t ask who that Kihyun is, but he didn’t need to anyway. Minhyuk is readily explaining it to him while going back to his side of the room to drop off the small gym bag he had been carrying all along. In the blink of an eye he’s back at Yoongi’s bedside, a little fidgety.

“Hey, you did it like this, right? That’s what the nurse said. She was a bit on the chatty side.”

He’s miming slicing his wrists and Yoongi wonders for a moment if he found the less tactful person on earth. The guy looks at him like he wants him to elaborate, so Yoongi soldiers on.

“Yeah. I saw it in a movie.”

“Which one”

“Chingu.”

“Oh yeah, I seen it. About the guys from Busan, right? I liked it.”

“Yeah.”

“Ever been there?”

“Yeah. I had… friends from there.”

If Minhyuk heard his voice crack, he doesn’t let it show.

“Cool cool cool. I never been. I went for the pills.”

That’s when Yoongi belatedly realizes that Minhyuk does indeed speak a whole of a lot, and probably has boundary issues. Although he finds it not so bad. His incessant babble drowns out the droning of thoughts in his head. Minhyuk doesn’t even require him to really participate, as long as he nods and makes appropriate noises at the appropriate time. His voice is somehow soothing. Yoongi suddenly feels drowsy, and he reclines on his bed while Minhyuk tries fruitlessly to tidy up his desk while talking about everyday life at the hospital. He probably falls asleep, because the next time he opens his eyes, his roommate is sited on his own bed and he’s not alone.

A dark-haired boy with sharp features is lounging in the armchair next to the bed and smiles while listening to whatever Minhyuk, sitting cross-legged on top of his covers, is going on about. They didn’t close the privacy curtain. There’s a small stack of comic books in between them and a crumpled messenger bag is lying at the foot of the bed. Yoongi must have been staring a bit too intently; the dark-haired boy suddenly looks up as if sensing something and his smile intensifies. It makes his cheekbones stand-out even more, and Yoongi is reminded of another boy with dark hair and high cheekbones. The image is fleeting, disappearing as the boy nods to him and motions to Minhyuk.

“Your roommate’s awake.”

The blond’s head snaps in his direction and it’s the first time Yoongi doesn’t see him smiling. It makes him a little uneasy.

“Sorry, I fell asleep while you were talking.”

That cracks up the other one and a small smile creeps back on Minhyuk’s full lips. The friend is the first to talk.

“Believe it or not, that’s not the first time it happened.”

Somehow Yoongi has no trouble believing that.

“I’m Yoo Kihyun, by the way.”

“Min Yoongi”, he says, trying but failing to remember what Minhyuk had mentioned about him. Something about singing.

“Nice to meet you. Sorry you have to share your room with Minhyuk, of all people.”

“Hey, what did I do?”

They instantly start bickering, and it’s so playful and light-hearted Yoongi wonders if they really realize where they are.

Kihyun finally pushes his hands against Minhyuk’s mouth to get him to shut up, and they both somehow find it hilarious when the latter falls back on the bed, pulling Kihyun with him. Yoongi just stares, not entirely sure what’s going on. Kihyun seems to be the first one to remember there’s someone else in the room.

“Sorry, got a bit carried away. Seriously though, don’t hesitate to tell him to shut up if he gets too annoying. Everyone does it all the time he doesn’t even get offended anymore.”

“I actually do”, Minhyuk protests, “but I know none of you care about my feelings anyway.”

For a minute Yoongi fears another bickering session, but Kihyun just pats him on the head like a child, and all is forgiven.

“By the way, you slept through lunch, and their stuff is disgusting once cold. You can have mine instead, I haven’t touched it yet.”

That’s when Yoongi notices the food tray sat on the table near the door. Before he can even protest, Kihyun is replacing it with a small dosirak box. Inside is some homemade kimpab and kimchi fried rice that do look better than the hospital food, despite their simplicity.

“It’s not much but at least you won’t gag. I can just go get something else from the convenient store for myself so don’t worry and just eat it.”

Yoongi wonders for a bit why this stranger is so nice to him when another thought makes his way through his brain, which Minhyuk helpfully voices.

“Kihyun, that’s very nice and all but he fucked up his arms, I think he can barely close his fist.”

“Oh, awkward. And we can’t call the nurse, she will make him eat the hospital food.”

It marvels at him just how normal Kihyun is acting. As if it happens to him every day, to meet some guy who cannot use his hands well because he butchered his own arms.

“Let’s just call the nurse, I am okay with hospital food.”

Minhyuk vehemently shakes his head at that.

“You have no idea how not okay you are with cold hospital food. Letting us spoon feed you fried rice like a baby bird is clearly the less horrible option in this case. Trust me, I know. I’ve been there.”

Kihyun is wisely nodding at these words, so Yoongi just relents with a sigh. Thankfully, Minhyuk decides to take the lead on the whole baby-bird-spoon-feeding business. It is somehow less awkward having him do it than Kihyun. The two boys keep the conversation going, weaving back and forth between comic books, Kihyun’s university classes, a dance competition some guy called Shownu won (what kind of name is that?) and what happened at the last singing club meeting (so it _was_ something about singing).

They don’t expect Yoongi to participate, speaking around him more than with him, as if they understood he’s not up for it now, but they don’t mind, and Yoongi somehow still feels included. It is a bit strange. Kihyun and Minhyuk are almost too normal in their interactions, with him and between themselves, too normal and familiar and warm. A fuzzy, nostalgic feeling settles in his chest. He had that too, the easy camaraderie that comes with years of knowing each other. He wonders if he will ever know the feeling again, and then chastises himself over how cheesy that felt.

After lunch, Kihyun takes Minhyuk for a walk, and the room falls silent again. Yoongi stretches back on his bed and tries to sleep, as he does when he doesn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts. He finds that sleep doesn’t come that easily, and wonders if it would be too much to ask Himchan or someone else to go to his old room and find his mp3 player. Music would help. He then remembers with a pang of anxiety that he still hasn’t figured out a way to empty his room before the end of the month, since he cannot pay rent for another one. He must also have ten thousand missed call from his boss firing him, and figures he should ask for his phone as well. This nice train of thoughts gains momentum and he curls up on himself, suddenly crushed by the amount of things he forgot he had to deal with.

Thankfully, the door of the room flies open, and Kihyun steps back in, stopped dead in his track when he sees Yoongi.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t think you’d be sleeping. Did I wake you?”

Yoongi straightens up and answer by the negative.

“I just forgot my bag here. Minhyuk’s at his group therapy thingy. You don’t have those?”

“No. I’m only starting everything next week. They’re letting me rest.”

“Ha, enjoy your last days of peace then. By the way, you read comics?”

Yoongi is a bit taken aback by the familiarity of the other boy. But then again, pretty much everyone had been overly familiar with him lately, he guesses he should just get used to it.

“I guess so.”

“I work part time at my uncle’s book store and he lets me take pretty much whatever I want, so if you want some stuff just tell me. I can also get books. Minhyuk has like ten thousand of them already so you can borrow from him too. It can get quite boring in here. You don’t have a computer?”

“No.”

“Man, better steel yourself for long wintery nights then. They got a couple in the common room though, ever been there?”

Yoongi shakes his head again.

“It’s just downstairs. I thought they would have shown you. Well anyway, I gotta go now, but don’t hesitate to ask Minhyuk to show you around if you want. Though he probably will even if you don’t ask.”

A smile, a wave, and Kihyun is gone like a dream. Yoongi finds that the tight clamp on his stomach isn’t as stifling anymore.

 

The afternoon is drawing to a close and Kihyun doesn't feel like going back to his room. So he goes to Hyugwon's instead, Hyungwon who doesn’t even raise his head from his desk when Kihyun just lets himself in and goes straight to face plant on his bed.

“Minhyuk got a new roommate.”

“Better or worse than the last one?”

“How could he be worse?”

“Good point.”

Kihyun doesn’t say anything more, which is a bit uncharacteristic of him, so Hyungwon finally abandons the law notes he was absent-mindlessly doodling over instead of actually read, and swivels in his chair.

“What is it.”

“Nothing.”

Kihyun has turned on his back and stares at the ceiling. Hyugwon makes a face and walks his rolling chair to the edge of the bed, where he leans towards Kihyun with a conspiratory look on his features.

“Is he cute? He is, isn’t he.”

He is rewarded with a pillow in his face and Kihyun rolling on his side, turning his back to him.

“Grumpy much.”

“He liked my dosirak.”

It comes muffled from the other side of the bed and Hyungwon transfers his butt from the chair to the covers, giving a light tap on Kihyun’s side.

“Well that’s good. Give him more. They say a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

Kihyun swats at Hyungwon’s hand without even looking at him. Hyungwon laughs and lays down on his back beside his friend, looking up at the ceiling.

“I do not like him. I just met him.”

“And yet you’re playing flustered Victorian heroine on my bed now.”

“I’m not flustered.”

“You so are. Is your heart going all tugun tugun when you look at him?”

“Stop this.”

“All right.” A pause. Hyungwon looks over to Kihyun, who still has his head buried in the covers. “You know that it’s okay right.”

“Yeah, you told me ten thousand times.”

“It’s just. You don’t seem that comfortable with it.”

Kihyun turns on his back again, face thoughtful, staring at a black spot on the ceiling. A crushed mosquito. He feels the urge to clean it.

“I’m getting there.”

“Okay, good.”

They stay like this for a bit, laying side by side. They’re doing this a lot these days.

“Wanna play a game?”

“I don’t know. I should probably go. I told my mom I’d drop by and cook tonight.”

“Okay.”

Kihyun doesn’t move though, and they stay like this until Hyungwon’s roommate comes back and starts ranting about international law. Those are Hyungwon’s favorite rants, so Kihyun takes this as his cue to leave. As a music major, he has nothing to contribute.  

The night outside is chilly but he welcomes the cold after the stuffiness of Hyungwon’s room. The subway ride to his mom’s tiny flat takes about forty-five minutes and he still has to get on a bus before making it all the way there. He likes the city at night, with its colored lights and the car’s headlights dotting the scenery. Coffee shops spilling music on the sidewalk, tired students filing out of hakwons, the familiar neon lights of convenient stores… Kihyun closes his eyes and let the quavers of the bus almost put him to sleep. His heart may not go _tugun tugun_ but his head recognizes the familiar feeling of falling.


	2. I made those with all my soul so you better enjoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You got rabbit teeth, Kim Himchan.”
> 
> “And your roots are showing, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi mostly spends his mornings in and out of sleeping, rendered drowsy by the pain medicine. He’s physically getting better though, and they start easing him off the medication. Minhyuk is a constant babble in his ears and he finds that he doesn’t mind it too much. His steady presence is somewhat comforting. There’s other boys too, one of whom would show up every other day, even just for half an hour, bringing news, food, or entertainment.

Some were quiet, others not so much. They were all quite friendly towards Yoongi too, careful not to invade his space, but inclusive enough that Yoongi didn’t feel like an intruder. The one everyone called Shownu had a calming aura that would make him feel secure and grounded whenever he was around, and Jooheon had gasped when he had realized they had a shared interest in rap music. But he would get along best with Kihyun, who always had food for him, or a book, or some piece of news he thought hilarious. He didn’t seem to mind that Yoongi wasn’t exactly a great audience, and always left with a smile, a wave, and a lingering glance towards his side of the room. All of them would act as if they were leisurely hanging out at home rather than in the psychiatric unit of a hospital. Yoongi had asked Minhyuk about that once.

“Yeah, I asked them. At first, they were all looking at me with sad eyes, talking as if I was made of glass, not joking about anything, like it would be inappropriate since, you know, I had just tried to off myself and it’s Serious Business. I got real sick of it real quick. It just made everything worse. So we had a nice talk about it and they actually seemed kinda relieved. It was a bit awkward at first but now I’m quite satisfied. I can have a normal relationship with my friends again. Well of course it’s not like normal normal, I mean, you’ve seen me cry like ten thousand times right, and I know they’re all pretty damn worried, and we’re at the hospital. But, well. It’s the best we can have given the situation.”

Yoongi had seemed too pensive after that, and Minhyuk had given him a playful punch on the shoulder, smiling. So even their easy interactions had taken time and effort to be rebuilt. But they were there now. Maybe he could reach that place too. Or maybe not. Hope was a flighty thing in Yoongi’s mind.

 

It’s two weeks in on a Thursday, and Kihyun is standing in the common kitchen of the dorm, diligently rolling a kimbap he just made, when Changkyun makes his way in and plops down on one of the creaky chair, elbow on the table, chin resting in his palms.

“Hey. Aren’t you getting tired of cooking all the time? You’re gonna make him obese.”

“Have you seen Minhyuk?”

“I’m talking about the other one.”

There’s a pause, and Kihyun stares at his kimbap like it holds all the answers to the universe.

“Well. He’s a stick too. And no one ever visits him.”

“So it’s pity food?”

Kihyun makes a face at Changkyun and finishes rolling the kimbap in a perfect cylinder.

“It’s not. What’s wrong with being nice. Plus, he’s Minhyuk’s roommate.”

“You didn’t care about his previous roommate.”

“Cause he was an ass.”

He grabs a knife and neatly slices the roll before tightly packaging it in tin foil and sticking a note on it. Changkyun is still staring at him, a pensive look on his face.

“Okay. If you say so. I should go, it’s almost time. You should be honest with your feelings though, hyung.”

Kihyun sends a startled look Changkyun’s way, who only smiles and gets up, putting the finished kimpabs into a plastic bag himself. Kihyun doesn’t ask, because he doesn’t want to know what Changkyun is implying by that. The younger one leaves, and Kihyun is left standing in the kitchen, hoping it doesn’t mean what he thinks it means.

 

Minhyuk leaves just before the nurse comes to change Yoongi’s bandages, for bimonthly therapy he says, a bit forlorn. Yoongi looks again while the nurse carefully unwarps the linen on his arms. Some of the bruises are taking on a yellowish color that he finds particularly gross. This time though, he doesn’t feel faint, and he keeps on looking as she carefully dabs the scabs and apply fresh bandages. She asks if he needs anything, and walks off with a smile when he says no. The pain is subsiding, although they told him he had damaged tendons in his wrists, and would need physical therapy if he ever hoped to regain his previous grip strength. The news washes over him without eliciting any feelings stronger than slight annoyance. He doesn’t really care. He doesn’t really care about anything.

It’s a bit before half past eleven, the time when Minhyuk is supposed to come back, that the door opens, and a guy that he’s never met before, with auburn hair and a round face, makes his way inside. He smiles at Yoongi, showing slight dimples.

“Hey, I’m Lim Changkyun, nice to meet you. I’m here to visit Minhyuk.”

“He’s not here yet.”

Yoongi doesn’t know why he needs to point out the obvious, but the guy just keeps on smiling.

“Yeah, I know. Ah right, I have something for you.”

Yoongi doesn’t really see how someone he doesn’t know could have something for him, but after ruffling in his backpack for half a second, Changkyun plops down a cylinder wrapped in tinfoil on the small end table next to his bed. There’s a note attached to it. _“I made those with all my soul so you better enjoy_ _”._ Kihyun. He voices the first thoughts that comes to his mind.

“Why?”

“Don’t ask me.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Changkyun doesn’t push the conversation and just goes to plop himself in the plastic chair on Minhyuk’s side, grabbing a comic book off the messy desk while humming to himself. Yoongi considers the kimbap for a bit, then shrugs. He hopes Kihyun doesn’t see him as some sort of charity case, making him kimbaps out of pity, then he wonders why that’s a concern, and ends up getting annoyed at being concern at wondering why he is concerned. It’s when he decides to take a nap, his go-to solution when anything jars him even the slightest bit, that the door opens again, and Minhyuk enters the room. In the corner of his eyes, he sees Changkyun raising immediately to his feet. Minhyuk looks drained, his eyes are already watering, and he makes a beeline for his friend who’s holding his arms open, as if he had done it a thousand times already. He probably has. Minhyuk cries. Changkyun directs him to his bed and this time, he closes the curtain, with a small, apologetic smile to Yoongi, who now understands he had been early on purpose.

From behind the curtain they talk in hushed whispers, and Yoongi cannot understand anything, not that he tries. Changkyun leaves about an hour later, waving at Yoongi without saying anything, face a little taut, but still smiling. The curtain remains closed all through the lunch. Only later, when everything has been cleaned up, does Minhyuk peek at him from behind the it.

“Want me to help with Kihyun’s kimbap?”

Yoongi nods, even though he could pretty much do it by himself at this point, but it feels like maybe Minhyuk wants to help more than Yoongi really needs it. He’s gotten surprisingly good at reading the other boy. The blond sits gingerly on the armchair and unwarps the tinfoil, before stopping halfway through, eyes fixated on the slices bundled in seaweed. And then he bursts.

“You know, I hate therapy. They always want to hear the worst stuff about yourself, and then you feel horrible for the rest of the day. It’s even worse when you have nothing to say because nothing is actually truly terrible except how you feel. You’ll see when you start. You start today right? It sucks. Changkyun usually handles most of the crying, I don’t know why. Maybe cause he’s from the cheolla and he lived abroad so it made him tough. Anyway, what I meant to say is… Everything sucks. Everything’s so difficult, you know. I don’t even know what’s wrong now, it just is. Why is everything so hard? Yesterday I went to take a shower and halfway to the bathroom I just went back to bed cause it was just too overwhelming, going to the shared bathroom. Why the heck don’t they give us our own bathroom? Why do hospitals do not have any money? I don’t even know why I can’t do anything, I mean, did I have a terrible life? No, I just made it terrible on my own, you know?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Minhyuk’s eyes, that rested on the kimbap during his whole unexpected tirade, go up to Yoongi’s face and he looks at him quietly for a little while. He seems to settle a bit, his features less tense, his eyes less feverish.

“Right, you actually do. I was just very tired you know, wasn’t really worth it going ahead. It must seem weird to you because I have all those people visiting and taking care of me.”

“You guys should make a band.”

“Jooheon is actually trying to force us into it.”

“Nice.”

“Do you… do you have anyone?”

“I… not really. Well, I did, but I fucked it up.”

“Yeah… I thought you wouldn’t, cause usually at least the emergency contact is here.”

“Right. Though I don’t think my landlord even remembers what I look like.”

Minhyuk looks at him like he can’t believe it.

“Well, that’s sad.”

“It’s my emo side.”

“Can I ask why you fucked it up?”

“No.”

“Okay. Do you actually wanna eat the kimbap or not?”

“Well, now that it’s here.”

In a short time, nothing is left of the kimbap, maybe because Minhyuk’s help had consisted in him eating two thirds of it by himself, barely speaking in between mouthfuls, which was a rare enough occurrence. Yoongi supposes he must have been feeling slightly awkward, having so readily laid bare some of his feelings to a guy he barely even knows. But then again, Yoongi was going through some of the same stuff, and, sharing a room, this made them friends by default. Or, if not friends, at least they knew they could count on each other. Humans are social beings after all, and even the walls Yoongi had consistently put up around himself had cracks; Minhyuk and his team of caretakers had taken them to task upon the first half-hour of meeting him.

Them and Himchan, who was now poking his sharp face into the room.

“Hey there sugar.”

“Sugar?”

His face is followed by his body and he steps into the room, throwing a smile at Minhyuk, who is busying himself folding the disappeared kimbap’s tinfoil into the smallest square possible. He is doing a pretty good job at it.

“I have come on this beautiful day to accompany you to your first therapy session my guy.”

Himchan always sort of talked as if he was making a joke, but then his smiles always felt genuine, as real as the caring feelings behind his light words.

“Why you? Didn’t you say you only had the night shift here?”

“Well gee nice to see you again too. I switched for today because I thought it would be better to have a nice, familiar face to accompany you.”

Minhyuk lifts his eyes from the tiny square he is making and nods wisely.

“Or just a nice face. Therapy can be scary. Look at his face. Isn’t it nice?”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows and looks at Himchan, who is smiling at him with his eyes closed, hands theatrically framing his face. He did have a nice once though, sharp and crisp; he would have been intimidating if he wasn’t so dorky.

“Did you guys rehearse a skit?”

“No, but I bet it would be great if we did. Come on, it’s time to go.”

The faintest hint of authority has crept into his tone and Yoongi shrugs, hopping off the bed, Minhyuk’s words of encouragement following him out the door. His assigned therapist’s cabinet isn’t even that far, a flight of stairs down and a left turn in a tiny corridor. Himchan stirs him like a child and chats away, not even expecting an answer from Yoongi, who feels like the nurse is just trying to drown out any uneasy feelings he could have about starting his therapy. He could tell him that he doesn’t really mind, but then they have arrived, and Himchan knocks, announcing them. He squeezes his shoulder once before leaving, and Yoongi is left alone on the threshold.

“Well, get in there, what are you waiting for?”

The voice has the faintest hint of Gyeongsang dialect and he is immediately reminded of home, and of all the lies he told his family. It sticks out as amazing to him that he managed to build this life that only exists in the span of their rare phone calls. The therapist will probably find that interesting. He doesn’t really want to talk about it though. He doesn’t really want to talk about anything. Not yet. He goes into the room and there’s the tiniest woman sited behind a desk; she shows him a comfortable sofa to sit down on. He complies, and the first session is spent by her talking about what she expects out of him and what he’s entitled to expect out of her. He relaxes after the first quarter. Turns out he doesn’t really have to say anything yet.

Himchan is there to greet him when he exits some 45 minutes later, nonchalantly resting against the wall.

“Don’t you have other patients to take care of?”

“Sure, but you’re my favorite.”

“Besides it was just a warm-up session. I just had to answer some basic stuff.”

“I know. To be honest I’m just waiting for a staff meeting to start in 10 minutes. I just thought I’d check up on you. You’re too rude to be my favorite.”

Yoongi cocks an eyebrow at him and turns around to get back to his room.

“You got rabbit teeth, Kim Himchan.”

“And your roots are showing, Min Yoongi.”

When he gets back Minhyuk is gone, so he uses the boy’s small table mirror to check, and Himchan is right. His roots _are_ showing. He doesn’t know why this feels like a problem right now. He’s in a mental hospital. Nobody cares about his roots. Plus, black and auburn aren’t even that different a color, so it’s not even that noticeable. But Himchan did notice, so other people must have as well. This goes on for five more minutes, until the door opens and it’s Minhyuk, sporting a towel on his wet hair.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

He puts back the mirror on the messy desk and sullenly goes back to his side of the room.

“How was it?” Minhyuk asks, while nonchalantly putting his towel on the back of his desk chair to get it to dry.

“Do my roots bother you?”

Yoongi winces internally when he hears himself ask this aloud, but Minhyuk just looks at him, unfazed.

“I hadn’t even noticed before you pointed it out. Want me to get Kihyun to bring you dye? I mean he does it all the time for me anyway. I’m not a natural blond you know.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes at Minhyuk who just smiles innocently at him. Well. Might as well take the plunge.

“Why not.”

“Which color? You should go red. Or green.”

“That’s… I’m just gonna go back to black.”

“Back to black, then.”

‘Bo-ring’ Minhyuk mouths when he turns back around to comb his own mess of dyed hair.

 

So that’s how two days later Yoongi ends up with his shirt off, shoulders wrapped in an old towel, looking at himself in the mirror of the common bathroom, while Minhyuk reads aloud the instructions on the dye bottle to a very focused Kihyun. They get slightly side-eyed by another patient who just wanted to brush their teeth in peace, but Minhyuk gives them an apologetic smile and they shrug, brushing just a tiny bit quicker.

Yoongi had been reluctant to let them help him, but then they had wisely commented he wasn’t supposed to use his hands too much yet, and he had relented. Kihyun seems to know what he’s doing, applying the dye with a slightly used dye brush Minhyuk had in his drawers. His gestures are smooth and gentle, practiced. Once again, Minhyuk and Kihyun easy banter weaves a cocoon of warmth around Yoongi, who closes his eyes and allows himself to relax, even just for the twenty minutes it takes Kihyun to slather his head in the chemical mixture.

The dye must set for thirty minutes, so they trail back to the room, Yoongi clutching the towel around his shoulders, feeling slightly exposed in the grey corridors. He ends up sitting on the edge of his bed, facing Kihyun who does the same on Minhyuk’s, the latter having to attend one of the thousand activities he signed up for for the rest of the afternoon. The atmosphere had turned slightly awkward as soon as the boy had left, Yoongi feeling particularly silly with the plastic cap that came with the dying kit sitting atop his head.

Kihyun doesn’t mind it. Sitting quietly atop Minhyuk’s covers, he observes the boy facing him while chewing the inside of his cheek. He’d probably be quite handsome if he didn’t look so taut, all smooth skin and full lips. He looks like a bird ready to take flight, muscles tense as a bow-string, eyes darting from Kihyun to pretty much anywhere else. Looking at the bony shoulders peeking from under the towel, Kihyun feels a warm feeling blooming in his chest, a wave of protectiveness washing over him. He leans forward, resting his elbow on his thighs, and feels slightly baffled when Yoongi startles as he speaks up.

“You don’t feel cold? Last time we accidentally made a mess and ruined Minhyuk’s shirt, but it looks okay now, you could probably put a hoodie on.”

“Well gee thanks for telling me that now that I’ve been half-naked for the past hour.”

Kihyun bites back a laugh at Yoongi’s deadpan tone of voice.

“Sorry. You found me out. It was just a vast conspiracy to get you naked on the first date.”

Yoongi cocks an eyebrow at him. Kihyun wonders if maybe he went too far.

“Is this it? Staring at each other silently across a room? That sure is romantic. Great date buddy.”

“I did my very best. You can thank me later. Anyway, did you find any books or comics you like? You actually never got back to me.”

“I wasn’t sure you really meant it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Yoongi just shrugs, but the awkwardness of the first moments has dissolved, and they soon slip into a slightly stunted but nonetheless comfortable enough back-and-forth about their tastes in comics and literature. Yoongi later realizes that was probably the most anyone had gotten out of him since he had woken up in the hospital. Kihyun seems to be slowly trying to pull him into the circle of people that gravitate around Minhyuk, and he finds himself quite inclined not to resist. Having had a taste of their familiarity and closeness, he finds that he was starved of these easy interactions. Kihyun is giving water to a man lost in a desert.

They both jump at the timer going off, Kihyun scrambling to get at the phone in his pocket. Not two minutes later, Yoongi is crouching in front of the shower, Kihyun rinsing his head with warm water. Yoongi wouldn’t admit it, but they take a bit longer than is strictly necessary. The water feels nice, the other boy’s hand in his hair even nicer. Kihyun stands behind him, his legs pressing against his back to help him keep his balance. It’s nice, and he feels warm, and Kihyun is quiet and just lets him enjoy this for a bit. When they’re done, he insists to help him comb out his hair, and gives him an atrocious middle parting that makes him looks like a 90’s boyband member. Kihyun is told to fuck off, and he does, but not before noticing Yoongi’s small smile that he tries to dissolve into a frown.

That night, Yoongi goes to bed with black hair and a slightly lighter heart.

 

**_From: Min Yoongi_ **

_Where you also serious when you said I could ask you for anything I might need_

**_From: Yoo Kihyun_ **

_Yeah, I live to serve. What_ _’s up?_

**_From: Min Yoongi_ **

_I need help emptying my room before the end of the month. There_ _’s not much, it_ _’s just a goshiwon. Just clothes and some stuff._

**_From: Yoo Kihyun_ **

_Sure. Just let me know when and where._

**_From: Min Yoongi_ **

_Thanks. I_ _’ll owe you one._

**_From: Yoo Kihyun_ **

_Let_ _’s call it square._

**_From: Min Yoongi_ **

_Shouldn_ _’t be so nice, people will take advantage_

**_From: Yoo Kihyun_ **

_Aren_ _’t you already_

**_From: Min Yoongi_ **

_You are smart one aren_ _’t you_


	3. Are you his fairy godmother or some shit?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Park Jimin makes a nice little entry, moving things forward.

When they had asked, Himchan had been adamant: under no circumstances would Yoongi be allowed to go play movers when his stitches had barely started falling out. He was nice enough to help though, volunteering his time and his car, and that’s how two of the three human beings closest to Yoongi came to stand in his old room on a Sunday afternoon.

“Well. That’s a goshiwon all right.”

Standing was pretty much all they could do in the tiny space left empty between the desk, the bed, and the wardrobe.

“I used to live in one during my studies, but I must have consciously blocked it out.”

Kihyun turns to face Himchan, who seems lost in memories of a slightly more miserable time, and manages to whack his elbow on the wardrobe in the process.

“We can’t both be inside at the same time if we want to get anything done.”

“Just hand me the clothes in the corridor, I’ll put them in the suitcase.”

Yoongi didn’t have many possessions, and once they fell into a rhythm the packing was quickly done. Hoodies, pants, underwear and some toiletries in the suitcase they’d bring to the hospital, with Yoongi’s beloved mp3 player and smartphone. The rest, mostly beat up books, notebooks, and all the useless items one tends to accumulate, ended up in two cardboard boxes that Himchan promised to bring to Kihyun for storage, but which would most likely lie forgotten in his trunk until Yoongi would eventually want it back.  

“It’s a bit… disturbing that someone’s life can just fit in a suitcase and two boxes.”

Kihyun is looking at the empty room they are leaving behind, hand resting on the suitcase’s handle. Himchan looks at him, a small smile working its way on his lips.

“Isn’t it even more disturbing to summarize someone’s life by his possessions?”

Kihyun frowns and turns to make a face at him.

“You know what I mean.”

Himchan fully grins now, and, not bothering to pick it up, pushes out the last of the two boxes out the room with his foot, leaving the key on the desk before shutting the door.

“Kihyun-ah, can I ask something?”

“Would do it anyway.”

“Why are you helping Yoongi so much? You weren’t that nice to Minhyuk’s previous roommate.”

Himchan’s tone is intentionally breezy, and Kihyun answers on the defensive.

“Could say the same to you. Always appearing when it’s convenient. Are you his fairy godmother or some shit?”

Himchan doesn’t formalize himself, he had known Kihyun for long enough not to bristle at his bouts of aggressiveness. He writhes while he walks so as to stabilize more comfortably the boxes in his arms, a thoughtful look smoothing his features.

“There’s something about him, isn’t it? He tries so hard to keep you at bay but it just draws you in.”

“How can someone be this alone, though? No one came to visit him, and he didn’t even want to contact his family. Minhyuk said he used to have friends. I don’t understand.”

Himchan smiles at the evident concern on Kihyun’s face.

“You really like him right?”

“What?”

Kihyun feels his stomach drop at that, because, what is Himchan hinting at? How could he know? He has just barely admitted to himself that he could lean that way.

“You can relax, I only meant it in a friendship way.”

The nurse looks at Kihyun, who doesn’t seem to relax at all, from the corner of his eyes and a gentle smile graces his lips.

“But you’re allowed to like boys, you know. I mean, in the eventuality that you do.”

“I do know, but thanks for the unnecessary solicitude.”

Himchan laughs while pushing open the building’s door, squinting a bit at the sudden bout of sunlight washing over him. Kihyun wonders for a bit if he just accidentally came out to him. He guesses that he has, but his stomach is back in its normal place, and dread crept back into its cave. He follows him into the sunlight.

 

“Do you own any colors other than black?”

Minhyuk is sprawling on his bed, absently turning the pages of a magazine while looking at Yoongi unpack the suitcase Himchan and Kihyun dropped off in the late afternoon. Kihyun is still there, lounging in the armchair next to his friend, pulling at loose threads on his shirt. He should go but he can barely muster the energy to get out of the chair. As Yoongi doesn’t answer, he takes it upon himself to defend his fashion choices.

“What you got against black? You never need to worry about color coordination and you look good either way.”

Minhyuk cranes his neck to look at him.

“Are you saying that cause you almost only wear black pants? You know it doesn’t make your legs look longer, right?”

“Minhyuk you–”

“What, this is not news, someone just has to look at you to figure out you’re tiny as f–”

Minhyuk is quite rudely interrupted by the pillow Kihyun throws in his face, and they start to play-fight again. Children, Yoongi thinks while looking at them, the last of his shirt finally transferred from the now empty suitcase to his side of the wardrobe. But this feels familiar, almost homey. Kihyun and Minhyuk’s banter is now part of his routine, he realizes with a fondness that stirs in his chest. His expression must look quite out of character, because when Kihyun looks up from where he’s busy smothering a shrieking Minhyuk with his own pillow, his brow knits with worry.

“You okay?”

“What? Yeah, I’m–”

“Dude, you’re crying…” It’s Minhyuk now, who took advantage of the lull to push Kihyun off him, hair sticking up everywhere. Yoongi brings his palms up to his eyes and they come back wet with tears. One of the issues with bottling up your feelings is that when the dam cracks, it’s quite hard to stop the flood. Yoongi sits on his heels in front of the wardrobe and buries his head in his knees.

“I have no idea what the fuck is happening” comes muffled from Yoongi’s folded body, and they both gingerly climb off the bed. Minhyuk crouches in front of him and awkwardly tries to lift his head up, but the boy is like a rock. He glances at Kihyun who just stands, unsure.

“Should we call someone?” he mouths at Minhyuk, who shakes his head and motions him to crouch beside them. Kihyun complies, looping an arm around Yoongi’s bony shoulders. He’s never been good at handling emotional crises. He’s pretty sure even Jooheon would be better at it than he is.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”

“Fuck, this is stupid.”

“That’s okay, it’s a judgement free zone”, jokes Minhyuk, now sited cross-legged in front of the two boys. “You can be as stupid as you like.”

Yoongi kind of just sags against Kihyun’s body, who doesn’t move an inch. He’s warm, slightly trembling from the sobs he tries to stifle in his chest.

“Sorry. I don’t know. It’s just been a lot.”

He motions vaguely.

“I miss… I miss people.”

Kihyun looks at Minhyuk who stares back at him, lips drawn in a taut line. They had already discussed Yoongi’s seemingly self-imposed isolation, wondering if he would ever let himself get out of it. He had been teetering off the edges of their friendship, their attempts to pull him in met with snarky comments or distracted silences.

“Hey, it’s okay, we’re here now.” Minhyuk gingerly puts his hand on the other’s knee and they stay like this for a while, huddled on the floor, Kihyun pulling Yoongi tighter against his chest. The latter listens to his steady heartbeat with closed eyes, letting it calm him down, his feelings flowing over and out of him. Embarrassment starts eating at him and he shifts in Kihyun’s arms, but the other just accommodates him without letting go. He’s warm. Steady and calm. Yoongi closes his eyes again. He misses his friends, he misses his family. He misses not feeling like shit all the damn time. He wants to get better. He really does.

“I think he fell asleep.” Kihyun tries to look at Yoongi’s face but it’s buried in his sweater. He looks at Minhyuk a bit helplessly. The other is rocking on the ball of his feet, elbows planted on his knees, smiling at him with a knowing grin.

“You guys look cute.”

“He just had an emotional breakdown.”

“I think it’s good. He’s opening up. And you guys still look cute.”

There’s a knowing glint in Minhyuk’s eyes Kihyun isn’t entirely comfortable with, and he decides not to pursue it. Yoongi turns out to be quite the heavy sleeper, while taking him to bed involves more pulling and grunting than they expected.

 

Kihyun is still thinking about Yoongi’s breakdown the next day. About how warm he had been against him. About Himchan’s smile when he had innocently asked, “do you like him?”. His head hits the table with a thud and Jooheon, sited next to him in the cafeteria, just pats him on the shoulder.

“It’s okay hyung, maybe your growth isn’t over yet, maybe there’s still hope.”

He groans and swats his hand away, trying to tune out the bickering on the other side of their table. Thankfully, Jooheon takes care of that for him, screaming at them to stop talking all at the same time lest he fuck up his list. They are in the university cafeteria, food trays haphazardly pushed back, trying to decide how to organize their schedule and what to bring to Minhyuk that upcoming week.

“So Changkyun, you can’t make it on Thursday, right? It’s therapy day though. I can’t go, last time I ended up crying too and it was an ungodly mess.”

“I can go. I have no classes next Thursday.”

Hyunwoo is sending calming waves from Jooheon’s right and the latter happily scribbles down his name on the paper.

“Great, thanks. By the way Kihyun, last time Minhyuk told me what comics he wanted, do you think you can get them from your uncle’s store?”

Kihyun, still communing with the table, turns his head a bit to look up at Jooheon.

“Sure. I was thinking of getting some for Yoongi as well.  Now that he can actually use his hands. The wonders of physical therapy.”

“Cool. He listens to hip-hop too, right? We kinda talked about it again last time. He must be fucking bored, I thought I’d make him a mixtape.”

“A mixtape? Do you wanna date him in the 80’s?”

“Fuck off, you know what I mean.” Jooheon pushes him with his shoulders and Kihyun sits back up, stretching.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s cute. You do know they got internet over there though right. He’s even allowed to, gasp! Go out sometimes.”

“But I can get him the really great stuff. Yoongi-hyung has good tastes. He deserves a mixtape from the hip-hop master.”

“And who would that be?”

“Guys, this little dude wants to tell us something.”

Hyungwon unhurried tone somehow manages to break through their racket and they turn around as one man, towards Hyungwon, who is holding a guy they have never seen by the shoulder. A very fidgety guy, with squishy cheeks and full lips, looking extremely uncomfortable under their gaze.

“Erm, I’m sorry, I was sitting just a bit behind and I couldn’t help but overhear. You mentioned a Yoongi, right? Would that be Min Yoongi? He’s kinda this tall and he kinda has a resting bitch face most of the time.”

Kihyun, who has somehow designated himself as the spokesperson of the group, pushes Jooheon aside, who doesn’t even protest, to get up and face the guy. He feels a pang of satisfaction at being taller than him.

“Sounds like him alright. Why?”

“Well, erm, we used to be friends? But then he disappeared. And I haven’t been able to reach him for like, the longest time. Is he okay? What’s he doing?”

Some glances are exchanged before Jooheon manages to extirpate himself from his chair while shoving aside a silent Kihyun.

“Yeah, he is okay. Why?”

His tone is a bit aggressive, he notices. None of them really know why they suddenly started to feel so protective over Yoongi, a guy they have barely known for more than a month, and who keeps all of them at arm’s length. But under all his tough exteriors and laconic talks there is a fragility to him they have all witnessed, in the worst possible way. Plus, Minhyuk likes him, and whatever or whomever Minhyuk likes is more precious than gold.

“I just… I was just wondering. I… need to talk to him. Could you give him my number?”

He extends his hand then, holding a paper that Jooheon takes. Park Jimin, and a phone number. Scribbled under it in a hesitant scrawl is a “please call me” that brings Jooheon a fleeting feeling of pity for the guy.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Thank you. I have to go. Thank you.”

Park Jimin, since that was his name, all but ducks under Hyungwon’s arm and almost run to a taller guy that is clearly waiting for him near the exit, eyebrows furrowed. Jimin still looks fidgety and uncomfortable as he says something to the man, shaking his head, and they both exit the building without looking back.

“Well, that was a lil bit weird” says Jooheon, re-reading the paper. “Park Jimin. So Yoongi did have friends.”

“Yeah. Something happened between them.”

Kihyun looks a tad too serious when he says that, and the atmosphere suddenly turns heavy.

“You don’t mind if I give it to him?”

Without waiting for an answer, he plucks the scrap of paper from Jooheon’s hand and pockets it.

 

Yoongi’s therapist had smiled brightly at him when he had left the room. She had mentioned progress. Because Yoongi had started talking. About things that mattered, unlike the previous times, where he had been steadily avoiding it. It’s not much, but there’s been a shift. For the first time Yoongi had been an active participant instead of just watching himself from the sidelines. She hopes this is going to translate into his everyday life, too. He doesn’t know. But she smiles when she hands him his prescription, smiles again when she sends him on his way, and he awkwardly smiles back, and yeah, maybe. Maybe he can ty.

He is easy to spot, sat alone at a small table in a corner, looking warily at the other patients milling about in the common room. Kihyun enters, nodding in a small salute at a nurse he recognizes, making his way straight to Yoongi’s table, where he’s absent-mindedly turning the pages of an old book. He lifts his eyes with surprise when Kihyun sits on the only other chair at the small table.

“Couldn’t find Minhyuk?”

“Nah, I needed to talk to you. He said you were here. Why are you here? You’re never here.”

Yoongi shrugs, looks around a bit.

“Change of scenery?”

“Fair enough.”

“Why do you need to talk to me?”

There are lines of worry on his face and Kihyun wonders for a second if anyone has ever announced something nice to the guy. He tries a smile to ease his discomfort.

“Nothing bad, don’t worry. It’s just… At lunch, we were discussing what to bring Minhyuk and we kinda mentioned your name too. Some guy overheard and asked us what you were up to, if you were all right. He said you guys used to be friends. He gave us his number to give to you, said you could contact him anytime.”

Kihyun fishes in his pocket for the scrap of paper and puts it on the table in front of Yoongi. The boy doesn’t touch it, but his eyes rests briefly on the paper. _Park Jimin_ , and a number, scribbled in an awkward script. _Please call me_. He raises his head and looks at Kihyun again, who finds something feverish in his eyes.

“What did you say to him?”

“Well, we felt it weren’t really our place to say anything… You know. Jooheon just said you were fine and that was it. He didn’t insist. Still think you should text him though, he was all worried and… fidgety.”

“Fidgety?”

“Yeah, like barely looking us in the eye, shuffling in place, playing with his shirt. The whole thing was pretty damn awkward.”

Kihyun is pretty sure he saw the ghost of a smile on Yoongi’s lips, but it is gone in an instant.

“Okay.”

“What should I say if I see him again?”

Yoongi chews the inside of his cheek for a few second before shrugging.

“Just… Just say I’m fine and that I got the message.”

“Okay. I’ll leave you to it then. I should go to class, I actually just came to deliver that.”

Yoongi nods, his eyes already resting on the small paper in front of him. He isn’t paying Kihyun anymore attention. So the boy gets up, and when he leaves the room, Yoongi is still intently staring at the black ink of the paper. Jimin. Shining eyes and a toothy smile make their way in his mind, echoes of a happier time. He grabs the paper, crumpling it up in his fist. He isn’t ready. But then again, he isn’t sure he will ever be.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was there too much happening here? Oh well.


	4. I will hound him day and night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoongi takes a big step forward, what happened is finally shared and Kihyun embraces his meddling.

“He still hasn’t called him.”

Kihyun is laying on his back on Hyungwon’s tiny twin bed again, his legs dangling over the edge of the mattress. It’s becoming such a familiar occurrence, him moping in Hyungwon’s pillow, the latter doesn’t really pay attention anymore.

“How is that your problem?”

“The guy is _relentless_.”

Kihyun had thought giving the message to Yoongi would be the first and last time he would have to deal with one Park Jimin. He had never been more wrong. The guy had a knack for appearing at every corner of every corridors Kihyun ever walked in, and would look at him with hopeful eyes and a shy smile. Kihyun could just shake his head looking contrite, and the guy would deflate right there in front of him. It was always slightly heartbreaking. But soon pity was replaced by annoyance and Kihyun had started to feel like a lost soul hounded by a particularly cute and friendly hellhound.

Hyungwon sighs and swivels in his chair, looking down at Kihyun’s bony knees.

“Why don’t you just go and tell Yoongi to do something about him.”

“I can’t just do that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not my place, I’m not supposed to meddle.”

Hyungwon looks slightly exasperated.

“You’ve been meddling since you first met him. You’re so obvious it’s painful to watch. Just tell him to call that guy, at least one of us deserves peace.”

Kihyun sits up on his elbows, considers Hyungwon’s grumpy face for a moment. Bursting in while he was studying for his finals probably hadn’t been his best idea so far. So he shrugs, gets up, grabs the jacket he had thrown haphazardly on the bed, and decides to take Hyungwon’s advice, much to the relief of the latter.

 

So that’s how Kihyun ends up plopping himself down on the plastic chair in the common room, an exact repeat of last week. Yoongi startles, looking up from his Wonder Woman.

“You need to call that guy. Whenever he sees me he looks at me like a hopeful puppy, I can’t deal man.”

Yoongi chews the inside of his cheek, not sure what to respond.

“Then I pretend I don’t see him, but he starts smiling and waving and there is no escape. I can’t keep making excuses forever. There’s just that many times you can drop your phone in the toilets.”

“I’m sorry.”

Yoongi does look genuinely sorry and Kihyun feels a bit bad for pushing him. But that was the thing. Clearly something went down between Yoongi and his past friends, something big, and he would probably need to address it if he wanted to move forward. This was an opportunity.

 But Yoongi starts to squirm in his chair, which is a bit uncharacteristic of him, and Kihyun is that close to tell him to forget about the whole thing if it makes him that uncomfortable. As Minhyuk had helpfully pointed out to him several times, he was pretty weak when it came to the other boy.

“Want me… want me to be there?”

“What?”

“If you call him or meet him or whatever. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

“No, it’s… it’s okay. I’ll just text him and… Yeah. Well, maybe you could… I don’t know. I’ll just text him.”

“Well, I’m here if you need me.”

The conversation dies down. Yoongi looks lost in thoughts. Kihyun really wants to know what happened, but according to Minhyuk, Yoongi hasn’t even told his therapist anything yet. He has erected tall walls around himself, and then some more.

When Kihyun leaves, Yoongi stays sited alone at the table for some time, mulling over Kihyun’s words. Maybe he was right. Maybe he should at least text Jimin. See what he wanted. He couldn’t avoid it forever, avoiding it had led him here after all. So he takes out his phone and puts it on the table. The black rectangle seems to stare back at him expectantly from his place on the colorful oilcloth covering the square table. He hadn’t needed Jimin to give him his number again, it was still saved in his phone. Jimin hadn’t changed it. He almost raises his hand, but the anxious feeling that had steadily been growing inside him since Kihyun had mentioned Jimin stirs in the pit of his stomach, and his hand stays in his pocket. He fidgets like this for some time, until the ridiculousness of the situation comes crashing down on him and he unlocks his phone at the speed of light, sending exactly three letters before pushing the device as far away from him as he can.

 

**_Hey._ **

_Who_ _’s this? Sorry I don_ _’t have your number saved._

_Yoongi-hyung?_

_Is this you?_

_It_ _’s you isn_ _’t it_

_Can you answer me._   

 

The phone keeps buzzing and it takes Yoongi a show of strength to unlock it again. He should have told Kihyun to stay, after all.

**_yeah, it_ ** **_’s me._ **

_!!!!!!!_

_how have you been?? where are you???_

_I_ _’m so glad to hear from you!!!!_

**_I_ ** **_’m fine_ **

**_how have you been_ **

_I_ _’m good!!!!_

_did you switch schools????_

_it_ _’s been so long!!!_

**_no I didn_ ** **_’t_ **

**_I just don_ ** **_’t go to university anymore_ **

_what are you doing then?_

_what have you been doing?_

**_nothing much_ **

_you don_ _’t live at the same place right?_

_cause I went there but it wasn_ _’t you_

 

Jimin went there? What?

**_why did you go there? when?_ **

**_I moved about six months ago_ **

_you just disappeared from school_

_it was still kinda okay when I could just see you from time to time even if we didn_ _’t talk_

_but then you weren_ _’t coming anymore_

_so I tried to contact you but it was a wrong number_

_and I went to your place but you were gone_

_it felt like you had died or something_

_it made me sad_

**_how_ ** **_’s jin_ **

_no change_

**_you should just forget about me_ **

_it wasn_ _’t your fault I know that now_

_we were wrong in blaming you_

**_jimin_ **

**_look just_ **

_I want to see you_

_where are you_

**_don_ ** **_’t bother kihyun or his friends anymore okay_ **

**_I_ ** **_’m fine_ **

**_just leave me alone_ **

_no_

_I_ _’m not gonna let it go just let me meet you_

_I swear if you block my number I_ _’ll hound kihyun-hyung days and nights you just watch me_

The thing is, Jimin is probably perfectly capable of doing that. He looks sweet, but it’s all a front. It takes Yoongi a little longer to answer this time.

****

**_all right._ **

**_I_ ** **_’ll tell kihyun to bring you_ **

_what? why?_

_can_ _’t we just meet in a coffee-shop or something?_

**_look_ **

**_if you want to meet me it_ ** **_’s on my terms_ **

**_and my terms are kihyun brings you_ **

_okay_

**_he_ ** **_’ll contact you._ **

Yoongi puts the phone back on the oilcloth. It doesn’t buzz again. He’s chewing on his bottom lips, eyes darting from the phone to his clammy hands, and the pit in stomach is a black hole that is going to swallow him all.

 

It is a bit after 9pm and Kihyun is busying himself putting the last touches on his music history assignment when his phone starts buzzing. Yoongi. That is unexpected. It takes him a minute to realize it is actually a call and not a next, and his hand flies over his desk to grab at his phone before the bell stops.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey.”

A pause. Kihyun just patiently waits for Yoongi to be ready with whatever it is he wants to say, while fixing a horrendous typo he has made in his own name. He should really sleep more.

“I texted Jimin. Like you said.”

_Oh._ Kihyun turns away from his desk and puts all his attention on the phone call. Yoongi’s voice is unsure and a bit strained. Worry starts eating at him.

“You okay?”

“I told him I would meet him.”

“Okay”

“And… I told him you would bring him.”

“To the hospital?”

“Yeah”

“You’re meeting him in the hospital?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t seem like such a good idea now that I hear it aloud.”

“No no no it’s okay. At least you will have to tell him the truth.”

“I’m not sure I want to.”

“It’s still time to change. But I think it’s good.”

“I want you to stay.”

“Sure”

“I was thinking Sunday. Around 2.”

“Okay”

“Thanks”

“Yoongi, are you crying?”

“If I was that would be none of your business.”

“Okay. Do you want me to come over?”

“It’s like 9:30”

“Right.”

“I’ll see you later, it’s okay.”

The call cuts off soon after and Kihyun leans back into his chair, sighing. This feels like a big step. Maybe he was wrong in pushing Yoongi. But then, Jimin’s squishy face comes into his mind and it feels like change, like hope. Something is happening. It might be something good.

 

Wandering the deserted corridors of the hospital, Yoongi feels exactly the opposite. He doesn’t see Jimin’s smiling face but one covered in tears and twisted in anger. This is bad. He shouldn’t have set up a meeting. What is he going to say? Sorry? Sorry is not enough. His steps find the door to the courtyard but it’s closed, so he just leans his forehead against the cool glass of the windows, looking at the trees swaying outside, trying to slow down his breathing. Now is not the time to panic.

_You don_ _’t have do to everything alone_.

He closes his eyes, focusing on Kihyun’s words this afternoon, his warmth, and his steady presence. He remembers the rhythm of his heartbeat from when he had held him, clenches and unclenches his fists. It seems to be working a bit, and it’s when he sits on the ground that he finally hears the footsteps coming towards him.

“Yoongi?” The voice sounds surprised, and he recognizes it immediately. “What the heck are you doing outside your room at this time?”

Himchan stands in front of him, looking worried.

“Oh yeah. Night shifts. Doing your rounds?”

“Yeah, and you should be in bed.”

“It’s not even that late.”

Himchan seems to finally notice the unsteadiness of Yoongi’s voice, how his hands are shaking. He crouches in front of him, putting his hands on his knees.

“You alright? What happened?”

“Can we go outside? I think I need air.”

Himchan nods, standing up to unlock the courtyard’s door with one of the many keys hooked to his belt. Yoongi stands up and follows him outside. They sit on his favorite bench, under a big oak tree whose branches are partially occulting the night sky. It feels cozy. Himchan says nothing, just sitting close to Yoongi, steady and warm. And then he’s searching his scrub’s pockets and fishes out a small chocolate bar, a look of victory on his face.

“Want some? Chocolate soothes the nerves.”

Yoongi shoots a look at him, but takes it anyway.

“Thanks.”

“So, wanna tell me what happened?”

“Not really.”

Himchan stretches his long legs in front of him, and a good-natured smile blooms on his lips.

“You know, you don’t have to carry everything on your own. Unloading some of your worries on others might help you.”

  _You don_ _’t have do to everything alone_.

“By others you mean you?”

“Well, I mean, I know I don’t look it but I’m a trained nurse. You also have your psychiatrist. And Minhyuk, and Kihyun, and–”

“I got it.”

Himchan smirks and falls silent, watching Yoongi chew on his chocolate. He doesn’t even bother with breaking off the small squares, he’s just biting into the whole thing, looking straight ahead. Himchan finds it him somehow endearing.

“This is really good.”

“Yeah, I know. Stole it from my roommate’s secret stash.”

“Taking risks.”

“You got no idea, pal.”

“I’m just meeting a friend. An old friend. I don’t know what to say to him.”

Himchan remains silent, waiting to see if Yoongi offers anything else. But he just keeps on chewing on the chocolate, a bit more folded over himself than he had been a moment ago. Himchan reaches out to massage his strained neck. Yoongi doesn’t push him away.

“I assume they don’t know about your situation?”

“No. We lost contact a bit more than a year ago. He was angry. They were all angry. I just wanted to disappear.”

Himchan hums, putting his hand back in his own lap.

“Why were they angry?”

“Want some chocolate?”

“Sure.”

Yoongi pushes what’s left of the bar towards Himchan, who looks at it for a bit before putting it back into his pocket.

“Yoongi. You need to talk about it. Not to me particularly if you don’t want to, but to someone.”

Yoongi looks at his lap, then at Himchan’s folded hands, then at the sky. There are no stars shining overhead, and the moon is barely visible. The darkness is hiding them not only from each other but from the rest of the world as well. It feels like being in a cocoon, it feels safe. Slowly, Yoongi starts to talk, and Himchan listens.

“I had this group of friends. We were really close. A bit like Minhyuk and his friends. A bit like brothers. Always together and whatnot. I thought it would go on forever. I was not okay at the time, I never really was anyway, but they were kinda grounding me, you know, I thought it was worth it if I was with them. I had help. But then, I almost killed one of them.”

Himchan feels his heart drop, and his eyes are huge in the darkness.

“What?”

“It was an accident but it was still my fault. With Jin, we got drunk at a party and… and he doesn’t know how to drive, but I do, and I said it was okay, that I was sober enough. But I wasn’t. I was going way too fast, and he told me, and I wasn’t listening. I missed a curb, and I don’t know. When I woke-up I had some stitches on my forehead but Jin. He still hasn’t woken-up. He still hasn’t woken-up. It’s my fault.”

Yoongi is grabbing at Himchan’s arms now, his fingers digging into his biceps and it is almost painful. His eyes have a feverish glint to them, the leaves of the tree overhead drawing strange shadows onto his face. Himchan gently grabs at his wrists, loosening Yoongi’s grip, and takes his hands in his.

“So, the rest of them… they stopped talking to you?”

“Yeah. I got arrested for drunk driving and all and the first day I got back one of them beat me up. But then the others grabbed him back and said it wasn’t worth it. And… yeah. I didn’t know how to deal with it. I never knew how to deal with anything. The guilt and then the isolation and everything. I mean I know I deserve it. I’m not trying to sound pitiful or make excuses but you know. It got too much. I didn’t know who to turn too. Then I lost my apartment and I started drinking and it all went more to shit than it already was. I was floating away and then I tried to end it.”

“And then you ended up here.”

“Yeah. Regret giving me your roommate’s prized chocolate yet?”

He has taken his hands out of Himchan’s, his arms folded limply in his lap. He looks weary. Small and fragile, as if a gust of wind could scatter him like autumn leaves.

“I think… I think you punished yourself enough.”

“What?”

“You… I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it was, and is, for you, but… maybe forgive yourself a bit? Your friend is clearly getting there, if he wants to meet you after all this time. You’re… you made a horrible mistake, with horrible consequences, but you don’t deserve the death penalty for that.”

Yoongi is looking at his feet, without saying anything. Himchan can’t see his expression.

“You’re here to heal, but you need to allow yourself to be healed too. You need to talk. No one will judge you. We know how life is. I’m happy you opened up to me.”

“I only did it cause you’re an annoying creep that keeps pushing.”

“Do you feel any better?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Himchan smiles and ruffles his hair, leaning back on the bench’s back rest.

“I think you should talk to your therapist before meeting your friend. Tell her what you told me. What you’re afraid of. I think it will help.”

“I don’t know if I can do it again.”

“It’s draining, isn’t it?”

Yoongi just nods, staring at his feet digging trenches in the dust. He does feel drained. His secret is out and yet Himchan is still here, warm and comforting and ruffling his hair. Maybe he will do as he says. Maybe he will go ask for a session with Ms. Lee tomorrow morning, keeping the ball rolling. Maybe he’ll tell her the idea of meeting Jimin terrifies him. That he doesn’t know what he will do if Jimin hasn’t forgiven him, that he doesn’t know what to do either if he did.

 

**_From: Yoo Kihyun_ **

_So I told Park Jimin you_ _’d meet him on Sunday and like that guy has no eyes when he smiles_

**_From: Min Yoongi_ **

_So he is coming_

**_From: Yoo Kihyun_ **

_Yup. Still want me there?_

**_From: Min Yoongi_ **

_Yeah_

**_From: Yoo Kihyun_ **

_You got it._


	5. You looked like you needed a hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Kihyun's help, Jimin and Yoongi meet again.  
> Kihyun takes a step forward and thinks it might be too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know if this is the place, but I made a tumblr for some reason. Feel free to recommend me blogs to follow (kpop or otherwise) or just scream at me about anything, really: blanquette.tumblr.com  
> Thank you guys so much for the kudos and the comments! Hope you enjoy this new chapter.  
> I usually write one shots (be it in or outside of fandom), so this is a bit of a challenge for me.

The day is bright, maybe too bright for what is about to happen. Kihyun is waiting at the bus stop in front of the university, wishing the sun would be more respectful and stop shining so much. He needs soft clouds and subdued light, something quiet and blue, to go with the worry he feels gnawing at him.

He hears Jimin calling his name before he sees the guy, and he too is too bright. He plops down next to Kihyun on the bench, looking like a kid going on a summer excursion. The guy deserves a warning, Kihyun thinks in passing, but he doesn’t know how to formulate it, doesn’t want to say too much, doesn’t want to deprive Yoongi of the right of explaining everything his way. So he just smiles, says his greetings, and keeps silent.

They sit side by side on the bus, exchanging meaningless chit-chat, but Kihyun’s worry must be contagious because soon enough they both fall silent. Jimin starts chewing the inside of his cheek, eyes darting from the road to a sullen Kihyun to the rest of the passengers. It’s a short ride, they go off soon enough. That’s when Jimin goes from slightly worried to full-on anxious. He doesn’t know this area, and he’s pretty sure the building at the end of the road is a hospital.

Kihyun starts walking, he doesn’t follow him. It takes the guy a few seconds to actually turn around and look at him questioningly. Jimin doesn’t move, his feet stuck to the concrete road.

“What happened to Yoongi-hyung?”

Kihyun looks hesitant, about to speak maybe, but then he just shakes his head and goes back to him, nudging him forward.

“He’ll explain everything. Well, maybe not everything. Come on, we’ll be late.”

 

Kihyun pretty much pilots him from the identity check to the common room door, keeping a steadying hand on his arm. Jimin feels lost and out of place. Yoongi is in the psychiatric unit. Something bad had clearly happened. He’s not sure he really wants to know what. They’re at the common room door, Kihyun a calming presence behind him. But he’s just standing there, chewing on his bottom lip, scared. Kihyun nudges him again, it’s alright, he says, a small, encouraging smile gracing his lips. So Jimin takes a deep breath, finally pushes the door, and enters.

It is still early in the afternoon, the room is almost empty. It takes him only a few seconds to spot Yoongi, sitting alone at a square table in a corner. He looks smaller and thinner than Jimin remembers, bundled as he is in a black hoodie way too big for him. Jimin swallows hard, anxiety making his palms sweat. Behind him, Kihyun gently pushes him forward and his feet finally agree to move, crossing the few meters separating him from Yoongi.

“Hey.”

Yoongi’s head snaps up from whatever magazine he’s reading, and his dark eyes settle on Jimin’s face. He looks tired and worried.

“Hey.”

They uncomfortably stare at each other for a while, Jimin awkwardly standing there. Yoongi snaps out of it first and offers him a sit, Kihyun silently taking the chair opposite him.

“Can you explain… this?”

Jimin is waving his arm in a gesture meant to encompass the whole room. Yoongi shifts uncomfortably. Under the table, he feels a hand reaching for his knee, that keeps bobbing up and down. Kihyun looks at him encouragingly, and when Yoongi finally speaks, his eyes shift from Jimin to Kihyun.

“Things were never really easy? Then, well, you know. It became even harder after. Even just doing regular stuff. Then everything got really stupid and I ended up here.”

“What do you mean everything got really stupid.”

Yoongi isn’t looking at either of them anymore, his gaze somewhat turned to the side, slightly down.

“I…”

He sighs, and quite suddenly tugs at the sleeve of his hoodie, putting his left palm up on the table. The first thing Jimin notices is the greenish hospital bracelet, and then the scar. Pink flesh, slightly raised. He can’t take his eyes off it, while he feels like his chair is sinking into the ground, taking him with it.

“You all right? You’re super pale.”

“You tried to kill yourself?” is all that comes out of Jimin’s mouth, a bit shrill.

Yoongi is still looking for his words, eyes darting from Jimin's shocked face to Kihyun's, when a clear voice interrupts them and someone plops down next to him, someone weirdly cheery considering the atmosphere.

“He was super thorough, he has the same one on the other arm. That’s some dedication right there. I only took some pills so they just had to pump my stomach. But they won’t let me go now.”

“Yeah, well, look at what happened when they did the first time. What the heck are you doing here, Minhyuk.”

Said Minhyuk makes a face at Kihyun.

“I felt left out.”

Jimin’s thoughts are still a jumbled mess in his mind when the newcomer turns to him.

“I’m Minhyuk, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

Jimin absently bows back, and Minhyuk is already trailing on.

“I thought of just spying from the door but then you guys looked really uncomfortable so I decided I’d come lighten up the mood. So, how’s the big reveal coming along?”

“How can you joke about that?!”

Jimin’s outburst surprises everyone, except Minhyuk, who crosses his arms on the table and pillows his head on top.

“Crying about it won’t change anything. It’s about how to move forward from here on out, now. I find that joking kinda helps in the process.”

Kihyun is looking at him almost in shock. Minhyuk smiles and scrunches his nose at him.

“Hey, I can be cool sometimes too.”

Kihyun laughs, and just like that, the atmosphere isn’t so heavy anymore. Jimin finds that he can breathe again.

“Still… Why… Why didn’t you reach out or something?”

Yoongi has a side glance for Kihyun, who offers him a steady smile as a silent show of support. Under the table, his hand finds Yoongi’s, and he gives it a light squeeze. Yoongi doesn’t move, so Kihyun let his hand rest in his.

“To who? We hadn’t talk for ages. I just… I didn’t think I could. And there wasn’t really anyone else. And I wasn’t… I wasn’t thinking clearly anyway. Everything was just… heavy. I kinda wanted it to stop. So I just… I don’t know. It felt like a solution.”

He looks at Kihyun again after finishing, a warm presence meant to reassure. Minhyuk just listened silently, nodding all the while, not moving from his position on the table. Yoongi’s eyes finally rest on Jimin, who looks lost.

“I’m sorry I failed you.”

“What?”

Jimin is silently crying now. Tears are running down his face, but his voice doesn’t waver.

“I’m sorry I failed you. We all did.”

“You didn’t know I was–”

“You were always out of it since we knew you. We should have noticed something was up already. And then there was the whole accident, and we all became merciless.”

Minhyuk perks up at the mention of an accident, but one look from Kihyun makes him put his head back down on his arms. He scoots a little closer to Yoongi, who unconsciously leans towards him.

“I don’t blame you. I would have done the same thing.”

“Well, I blame myself. Taehyung was the only one that tried to confront it. And then we held him back and just… did nothing.”

Yoongi chews the inside of his cheek, not sure what to respond. Taehyung had indeed tried to confront it. Granted, he confronted it with his fists, but looking back on it, it was marginally better than letting resentment and guilt fester and tear them apart.

“Would you want to… Do you want to visit him? Jin, I mean.”

Yoongi looks a bit stunned. His therapist had asked him the same question, encouraging him to go, to face him. He hadn’t known what to answer. He still doesn’t. But Jimin is looking at him with something akin to hope in his eyes, and Kihyun squeezes his hand again, Minhyuk a comforting presence on the other side of him. Maybe it is time, after all. So he nods, and Jimin smiles, wipes at his eyes, round cheeks streaked with tears.

 

It’s a bit later, when the afternoon is slowly slipping into early evening, just before dinner, that Yoongi finds himself sitting on the same bench in the courtyard, this time with Kihyun at his side. The air smells like it’s going to rain soon, and a slight breeze stirs the oak’s branches overhead. The courtyard is empty except for them, maybe too cold to be inviting. Yoongi feels fine, though, his too-big sweater a comforting barrier against the wind. Kihyun stretches next to him, extends his legs.

“Am I right in thinking this went pretty okay?”

Yoongi nods, letting his head fall back, staring at the sky in-between the tree’s leaves.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m not sure. He doesn’t hate me anymore. That feels good.”

“I think he never really hated you, Yoongi.”

“Maybe not.”

He straightens up again, looking towards Kihyun who is staring at his own hands, folded into his lap.

“You’re not asking me what happened.”

“I feel you’d have told me already, if you’d wanted to talk about it.”

“I was drunk driving, and I got into an accident. With a friend. With Seokjin. I wasn’t hurt, but Jin was. He’s still in a coma.”

It’s the third time he says it. It feels slightly easier somehow, even without stolen chocolate to comfort him, or the knowledge that the person behind the desk is here to listen and help. He’s not looking at Kihyun who’s not looking at him, only a muted “oh” escaping his lips. They stay silent for a while, and then:

“I… don’t really know what to say. Just…”

Yoongi’s looking at his feet now, burrowing into the dust again.

“How would you have reacted if Jooheon had put Minhyuk in a coma?”

The answers come after a minute of reflection, Kihyun finally looking at Yoongi’s lowered head.

“Honestly, I have no idea. I probably would have tried to kill him. But ultimately it would still be Jooheon and I love him, and you can’t erase everything that happened between you up to that point. I don’t know. You should ask that to Shownu-hyung, he’s the zen master of the gang.”

Yoongi is still looking at his feet, without saying anything. Kihyun cannot see his expression, but he looks small, and vulnerable.

“Can I hug you?”

“What?”

“You just look like you need a hug.”

“You’re being weird.”

“You’re not saying no.”

Yoongi doesn’t answer, so Kihyun grabs him lightly by the elbow, and draws him against his chest. He doesn’t resist. After a while, Kihyun feels hesitant fingers grab at his hoodie and they stay like this for a long time, the afternoon’s last moments painting red streaks across the sky.

“Hey, Yoongi.”

“Mh?”

“Why did you tell me all that now?”

“Cause you looked all sad and dejected.”

“Do you feel any better?”

“Everyone is asking me that, but I don’t know yet.”

“You feel cold.”

“Well, you’re too warm.”

Yoongi pushes himself off Kihyun but stays close, maybe a bit too close. Kihyun feels his face growing hot and he looks away. There's a tension in the air he doesn't know how to break.

“Kihyun?”

“Yeah?”

“You know you can kiss me, if you wanna.”

Kihyun startles, and draws back a little.

“What?”

“It’s okay if you don’t. But it just felt like maybe you did.”

Does he want to kiss Yoongi? Who wouldn’t, he thinks, and before he can stop himself he’s sliding his hand in Yoongi’s messy black hair and closing the gap between their faces. The other’s lips are chapped and too cold, but Kihyun presses on, his hands tugging slightly at black strands of hair, eliciting a small noise in the back of Yoongi’s throat. Of course he would like people tugging on his hair. The kiss deepens when Yoongi parts his lips, and only when a tongue tentatively makes its way into his mouth does Kihyun realize what he is doing.

“Oh shit.”

He pushes Yoongi back a bit too violently, and the boy goes bumping against the backrest of the bench, wincing a little.

“What the fuck, Kihyun?”

“The hell are we doing?”

“Well we _were_ kissing, but now we’re freaking out apparently.”

“You’re a patient in a mental hospital, I’m not supposed to mess with you.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not… we’re not supposed to do that.”

“I’m not waiting for you to profess your undying love if that’s what you’re worried about. I just thought kissing you would be nice and it was. Until whatever this is.”

The unease that has taken possession of Kihyun won’t let go and his gaze shifts from Yoongi to his own hands, who had been griping the other boy’s hair not a minute ago. It _had_ been nice, that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that Yoongi was in a vulnerable state, and that was probably not the best time for him to decide who to kiss.

“Kihyun, it’s just kissing, we’re not fucking and I’m not expecting marriage. I’m not expecting anything.”

“I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

“I see.”

Yoongi’s face has closed off again, and Kihyun feels his heart constrict. This really isn’t going the way he would have wanted it.

“It’s not that I don’t like you.”

“I’m not asking you to like me. Just… Let’s not talk about this.”

“Okay.”

They stay silent for a while. The initial distance between them has resumed, and Kihyun feels cold where Yoongi had been pressed against him.

“It’s getting late.”

“Yeah. You should go and I should eat.”

They walk together to the entrance of the psych wing, in silence and a little awkward. Kihyun feels that if he leaves it like this, it will just fester, like everything else in Yoongi’s life. So he turns around, catching him by the neck and bringing him into another embrace.

“It _was_ nice, kissing you. It’s just. I need to think about it. You’re in a weird place and I don’t want to make it worse. But I’m still here for you, this doesn’t change anything.”

He feels Yoongi nod against his shoulder and lets him go, trying out a smile. Yoongi pushes him lightly, maybe embarrassed.

“Go back home, you cheesy fucker.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you.”

 

Kihyun doesn’t go back home. He goes to Hyungwon’s room, because he’s the only one in the group who _knows_. The guy looks extremely unimpressed when he opens his dorm room’s door, but he still lets him in anyway. Kihyun goes straight to lay on Hyungwon’s bed and doesn’t even wait for the other to resume sitting in his desk chair.

“I kissed him”, he says, hands covering his face, “he sorta asked and I kissed him.”

“Who are we talking about, and why is it a problem if he asked?”

“Min Yoongi”

“Oh. I see.”

Kihyun turns on his back and lets his head hang back over the edge of the mattress, looking at Hyungwon upside-down in between his fingers. The latter looks back at him, pensive.

“Isn’t it a big no-no to fool around with hospital patients?”

“So now you see the issue.”

“Quite so, quite so.”

Kihyun makes a face, and Hyungwon rolls his eyes.

“It doesn’t mean he doesn’t know what he wants. And for some reasons he seems to want you.”

“This is cheesy.”

Kihyun is now driving the ball of his hands into his closed eyes and Hyungwon sighs again, standing up to go sit beside him. Kihyun doesn’t move.

“Why are you so freaked out about this?”

“Because.”

“Is it because he’s a guy and you’re still not used to the idea? Cause I am.”

“No. Haha. It’s just. I really like him.”

“Aww, first love.”

Hyungwon makes awful cooing noises and jabs his finger into Kihyun’s ribs. Kihyun wriggles out of his reach, almost falling to the floor in the process. This isn’t a big bed.

“You know he isn’t. You were.”

“Yeah, talk about awkward.”

Hyungwon lays back on the bed, his long legs stretching over the edge, and Kihyun scoots up to him to steal some of his warmth.

“You handled it pretty well, though. Thanks for that.”

“I was raised right. You know, I think the others all pretty much know already. You could just tell them.”

“Yeah. Minhyuk makes the subtlest allusions. But. I don’t know. It’s scary.”

“I think you can trust them on this. And I’m with you.”

“What if they don’t react as well as you did? What if it becomes awkward.”

“I don’t think it will. But if it does, just give it some time. They love you, they'll come around.”

Kihyun chews on his bottom lip, eyes fixated on the ceiling above them.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“You know I am”, Hyungwon smiles, and they stay like this for a bit, falling into easy chit-chat. When Kihyun is about to leave, Hyungwon offers a last piece of advice.

“You know, about Yoongi. Just take it slow. You like him and he seems to like you, that’s that. You don’t have to rush into it. Leave him deal with things how he wants to deal with them. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

Kihyun smiles and nods. He doesn’t really know how to do this anyway. But he’s good at being there, and being steady, and he guesses that’s the best thing he can do for Yoongi now.


	6. Sometimes all you need is a crappy motivational speech

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kihyun takes a big step, and another one.  
> Yoongi follows suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit delicate to write. Hope I did okay.

They are sitting on a grassy slope that dips smoothly towards the river, ending in a bed of rock. It’s the last hours of the afternoon but the day is still warm, a nice breeze ruffling their hair from time to time. The lasts of the families are packing up, allowing a gentle lull to fall over the bank. It’s just them, and a couple of old men fishing downstream.

The fishermen haven’t caught much, Kihyun has been observing them for some time now. They don’t seem to mind, though. Hyunwoo is sited at his side, busying himself with a ladybug that landed on his knee. It takes flight when it reaches the tip of his finger and Hyunwoo stretches, reclining in the grass. He closes his eyes. Kihyun wonders if he will be able to fall asleep amongst the racket Jooheon and Hoseok are making. They’re arguing with Changkyun about something Kihyun didn’t bother to understand. Something about music. The deep voice of the younger one interrupts them from time to time, but this is really a one-sided conversation.

Kihyun doesn’t see Hyungwon, but he feels him against his back. He’s lying in the grass, knees raised, and his long legs make the most excellent backrest. It’s nice, like this. Just the six of them and the river. They had spent the afternoon at the river park, eating and drinking and being generally raucous, and now a nice lethargy had come over them. They should probably go home, but none of them makes any move to do so, bodies drained.

It feels like a moment out of time, and Kihyun thinks that maybe, the instant is ideal to speak up. After his conversation with Hyungwon, he had thought of doing it over a dozen time. When they were all together, when it was just him and someone else, over coffee, dinner, after a movie. Each time, the feeling of dread clamping down on his stomach whenever he tried to open his mouth had overwhelmed him.

It is slightly terrifying, like standing at the edge of a cliff. If he takes the plunge he’s not sure someone will be there to catch him. But Hyungwon feels warm against his back, Changkyun’s voice is soothing to his ear, Hyunwoo is at his side, steady like a rock, and Jooheon and Hoseok’s incessant babble is comforting and familiar. He feels safe and yeah, maybe now is the time.

He shifts a little, sits up, glances at Hyungwon over his shoulder. The latter stares back, and maybe he sees something in Kihyun’s face, because he raises his eyebrows questioningly, and when Kihyun nods, worry suddenly eating at him, he sits up, scoots close to him, and loops an arm around his waist. Kihyun swallows hard, throat suddenly dry, and focuses on the water lapping gently at the rocks a few meters away from him. The small waves have a calming effect and he closes his eyes, taking the plunge, voice heavy.

“Guys, I thought you should know. I like men.”

The arm tightens around his waist and he’s grateful for Hyungwon as his side. There’s a hush, an empty space where worry suddenly swells like a monster, filling every corner, and then –

“Like, romantically?”

He can just nod. It’s Jooheon, that he feels scooting closer to him. He cracks an eye open when the younger nudges him.

“Am I hot? Like, would you date me?”

Kihyun is slightly taken aback, until Hoseok whacks Jooheon over the head.

“Nobody thinks you’re hot.”

There’s some bickering about basic manners and the objective attractiveness of dimples, and it’s Changkyun that puts an end to it, looking at Kihyun with a soft smile. His deep voice is soothing as ever.

“Thanks for telling us. We’re with you. Right?”

He is looking over at Hyunwoo, who takes his time sitting up, stretching, face rumpled by drowsiness.

“Yeah, of course.”

The guy actually ruffles Kihyun’s hair before laying back on the grass, stretching his long limbs. He looks like a dad, Kihyun thinks, and warmth suddenly bubbles up in his chest. Relief makes everything brighter and lighter. If Hyungwon wasn’t holding him down he would probably be floating away. He brings his knees up against his chest, buries his face into them.

“I was so worried about telling you.”

Hyungwon lightly shoves him with his shoulder, and he goes bumping against Jooheon, who settled next to him.

“Yeah, mustn’t be the easiest thing in the world. But you can trust us with anything, you know.”

Jooheon’s tone is rarely this serious. He’s looking at Kihyun, intent on him feeling the truth behind his words. _We accept you as you are, no matter what._ The feeling is a bit overwhelming, so Kihyun just nods, smiles, and looks back at the river. They fall silent again, but it is warm, comfortable. Kihyun is pretty sure Hyunwoo did fall asleep, and as Hyungwon starts to weight more and more against his side, it’s obvious he’ll join him soon enough. The two youngest have started talking again, voices a bit subdued, Hoseok watching over them, reclining on his arms. Kihyun just watches the river, appeased, half listening to their easy chatter and laughter, bundled in warmth.

It’s a bit later that Changkyun slides in next to him, in the place that Hyungwon has vacated to finally go nap beside Hyunwoo.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer.”

Kihyun just nods, watching the youngest in interest.

“Do you like Yoongi-hyung? I thought… I thought maybe you did.”

“Was I that obvious?”

Jooheon changes position on his other side, cross-legged, back straight.

“Well, you keep talking about him. A lot. And making him food and whatnot.”

“Ah, I guess so.”

Kihyun rips out some of the grass in front of him and busies his hands in cutting the blades in equal pieces that he puts on Jooheon’s knee. The latter just watch him pile them there without moving.

“I’m not sure what to do about it though.”

“Does he like you back?”

“I’m not sure. We haven’t talked since I…” _Since I kissed him._

A sudden gust of wind scatters the shreds of grass off Jooheon’s knee, and Kihyun suddenly shivers. The sun is setting, it’s getting colder. The water goes from grey to black and the waves don’t seem so gentle anymore. Hyungwon shifts behind them, stretches, yawns.

“You should talk. I think you’re more confused than he is.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be asleep.”

“I hear all.”

Hyungwon comically enlarges his eyes and starts to get up, brushing at his backside while nudging Hyunwoo is the ribs with his foot.

“I think we should get going, it’s getting colder.”

So they go, piling up into a subway car. There’s laughter and meaningless chit-chat and some disapproving stares when they get too loud, Hyunwoo trying unsuccessfully to keep them quiet. Nothing really changed, Kihyun thinks, but then again, everything did. His secret is out in the open and they recognized it, and they embraced him, still laughing, still annoying, still warm. He took the plunge and they were there to catch him. He finds that there’s an empty space below his heart, where he had kept buried a dark and confusing thing he wasn’t sure how to handle. There’s still dark waters he doesn’t know how to navigate up ahead, but there’s confidence now, and he’s not afraid.

 

Only Minhyuk is left to tell. Kihyun is still trying to not be afraid when he’s knocking on the familiar door a day later, but he finds that it’s not so easy, when he’s there standing alone. He enters when he’s told to, for the first time feeling awkward being there. Yoongi is sitting at his desk, scribbling away in a notebook he had asked from the boxes still stacked in Himchan’s trunk. He’s looking at Kihyun, face expressionless. There’s no one else in the room.

“Minhyuk’s not there.”

“Oh.”

Yoongi makes no move to invite Kihyun in, turning back to his notebook, and Kihyun stands in the doorway, hands still on the handle. He’s about to go back, tell him he’ll drop by again later, when Yoongi looks back at him. He looks hesitant, chewing on his bottom lip. There’s an awkward tension between them, and Kihyun knows he cannot leave it like this, because Yoongi will never be the first one to confront it. So he steps in, closing the door behind him, and goes to take up residence in the old creaky armchair that Yoongi had pushed near the window.

It’s quiet outside, a car passing by from time to time, a dog barking in the distance. Inside the room, the atmosphere is stiff. Yoongi is playing with his pen, not looking at Kihyun who’s not looking at him. It goes on for a bit more, until Yoongi suddenly speaks up.

“Are we gonna be like this now?”

It hurts a bit, somehow. Kihyun had said it wouldn’t change anything, but coming back to his room that night, Yoongi had known that he had been wrong, that it had already changed everything. He hadn’t known how. If this is it, he doesn’t like it. There had been an openness to Kihyun he had deeply needed. Yoongi had thought there was more to it, had asked for more. Kihyun had coxed him out of his shell like someone would tame a wild animal, with food, warmth, gentle touches, and a trust that had built over time. He wasn’t ready to give that up. And there were the feelings, too. Warm and unfamiliar. They wouldn’t let him go, however much he tried to ignore them.

Kihyun looks up when he speaks, turning away from the window to finally face him. He looks small and vulnerable in the big armchair, and Yoongi regrets the sharpness of his voice. But then Kihyun is talking and it’s awkward and jumbled up, but it makes sense, and Yoongi listens.

“I had… still have, some things to work through, too. You’re the first guy I kissed. I hadn’t even really told anyone I was… gay, yet. Not even myself, not really. And you’re not just… some guy, you know. I really care. But you’re… You’re not the easiest person to handle. I guess, I mean, I guess I’m scared as fuck. I know how I feel but I don’t know what to do with these feelings.”

Kihyun eyes sort of glazed over halfway through his speech and everything is blurry. He can’t bear to keep looking at Yoongi’s face so he drops his head, staring at his hands instead, folding and unfolding in his lap. The silence that follows his last word is heavy, full of doubts, but somehow, he feels like a weight lifted off his chest.

“What feelings?”

Yoongi’s voice has lost all its edges. Kihyun looks out the window, to the trees gently swaying outside. It’s the end of summer, autumn will be there soon. Some leaves are already turning shades of brown and orange. Somehow he feels this season fits Yoongi more.

“I’ve come to like you. A lot. There’s something here, right?”

He’s waving at the space between them, looking at his hand rather than Yoongi.

“But, I don’t think I am ready for it, yet.”

“I don’t think I am, either.”

Kihyun finally looks at him and Yoongi is padding over to him, sitting on the edge of the mattress. He takes his turn looking out the window, and there’s a wistful look to him that Kihyun finds unbelievably sad.

“I want to be, though.”

Kihyun goes to sit beside him on the bed, takes his hand in his. They both look down to their intertwined fingers, Kihyun tracing patterns on Yoongi’s skin. There’s Hyungwon’s voice echoing is his head. _It doesn_ _’t have to be complicated_. And yeah, maybe he could try, maybe he could be an uncomplicated thing in Yoongi’s complicated life. Accept him, no matter what.

“I will help. I will stay with you.”

Yoongi nods, there’s a sigh, maybe of relief. Then he lays back on the bed, legs dangling over the edge.

“These days, sometimes, I feel like maybe I can do it.”

“You can.”

Kihyun lays beside him, not letting go of his hand.

“And if you can’t, we’ll be there. You know it’s not just me, right.”

Yoongi nods, turns on his side, bringing his legs up. There’s some squirming and they both get fully on the bed, Yoongi curling a bit more into Kihyun’s side, one leg thrown over his. They are too warm and there is someone’s elbow digging in someone’s ribs, but they don’t mind.

“Yeah, I know. How it became like this I’m not too sure though.”

“We’re really good at inserting ourselves in people’s lives.”

It’s not that funny but Yoongi snorts, and the remnants of the heaviness hanging over them dissolve in the undignified sound. Kihyun shifts, brings Yoongi higher on his chest, draping him over his body like a blanket, and now it is truly comfortable.

“This is okay, right?”

He feels Yoongi nodding against his chest, his head lifting, so he looks down.

“You mind if I take a nap?”

 “Nah.”

Yoongi pushes himself up a little more, and goes to peck him on the lips.

“This much is okay too, right.”

Kihyun smiles, laughs, shakes his head.

“Yeah. A bit more, too.”

He grabs Yoongi by the neck and kisses him again. It’s slow and gentle, there’s pecking and nibbling, not much more, but it’s enough. Yoongi goes back to settle in the crook of Kihyun’s neck, with a content feeling he didn’t know what still hidden somewhere in him. They can figure things out as they go.

 

When Minhyuk goes back to his room, he puts down his sport bag before noticing the two shapes on the bed. He can’t help the victory fist, an “I knew it” escaping his lips. They’re all tangled up, probably too warm, both fast asleep.

He tip-toes to his bed, a bit unnecessarily, and closes the curtain between them.

 

They wake-up as the sun sets. It’s quiet in the room, and none of them say anything for a while. Yoongi is the first to sit up, brushing sleep out of his eyes, and looks back at Kihyun. Something woke them up but he can’t figure out what. Kihyun squirms, turns over, buries his head in the pillow. For once, he doesn’t want to get up.

“I think your phone buzzed.”

It comes muffled from the pillow, and Yoongi nods, leaving the bed to pad over to his desk, where his phone lays. He stifles a yawn. There’s a missed call and three messages. All from Jimin. Asking when is he ready to go see Seokjin. He sits down, looks up at Kihyun again, who’s turning his back to him. _Never_ , he wants to write back, the most truthful answer.

“Kihyun?”

“Mh?”

Kihyun rolls on his back to look at him, hair a mess, a pillow crease imprinted on his cheek. He’s a bit too much to take in, vulnerable like this.

“Nevermind.”

Yoongi looks back at the phone in his hands. Turns it over, put in back on the desk, takes it up again. During all his fidgeting, Kihyun has sat up, cross-legged on the covers, and looks at him, eyes still full of sleep.

“What are you doing?”

Yoongi almost drops his phone when Kihyun’s voice jolts him from his thoughts. He puts it down on his thigh.

“Jimin. He asked me when I want to go see Seokjin.”

“Oh. And when do you want to?”

“Like, never? I’ll probably die on the spot. But my therapist thinks I should. Confront all this. Himchan hyung, too. Basically everyone.”

“What do you think?”

“That they are right? But I don’t think I’m strong enough, yet.”

“Maybe you won’t know if you are until you actually do it.”

“This sounds like a crappy motivational speech.”

Kihyun has a bark of a laugh.

“I heard it the moment it left my mouth. Doesn’t mean it’s not true, though.”

“Yeah, I guess. So, you think I should do it too.”

“It can’t hurt.”

“Famous last words.”

Kihyun scoots closer to Yoongi, letting his legs fall over the edge of the mattress, leaning forward on his hands.

“You have support, remember that. You should talk to your therapist before you go, and after, too, if you need. I can come with you. Or someone else. Just, yeah. You should face it, but you don’t have to face it alone.”

Yoongi nods, slowly.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll go. With Jimin. And… yeah, I’ll talk to Ms. Lee, before. She… she helps.”

“Good.”

Kihyun lets himself fall back on the mattress, arms spread. He hears Yoongi shift, the sound of his phone unlocking. This feels like a big step again, and he really hopes Yoongi is ready to take it.

 

(Before going home, Kihyun pokes his head behind the curtain, to check on Minhyuk, who’s reading a book, resting against a collection of cushions he definitely stole from the common room. Minhyuk looks up, smiles, and becomes him over. Turns out Kihyun doesn’t have to tell him anything, because he already knows. There’s laughter and a _I knew you liked him_ and a hug. It’s the first time Kihyun notices how bright Minhyuk has become. It’s not the hurried, almost frantic exuberance he used to put up, either. It’s something calmer, deeper. More genuine.

_You_ _’re doing better nowadays, aren_ _’t you?_

The smile that spreads on Minhyuk’s lips has something vulnerable to it, but it’s warm, and it reaches his eyes.

 _Yeah, I am._ )

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh I keep rewriting everything. I had planned on 10 chapters but it might end up slightly longer.  
> Hope you enjoyed this one!


	7. For one, he can't talk back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoongi goes to visit Seokjin. Not all goes as planned, though.

Yoongi stands outside the hospital, at the bus stop at the end of the street. Jimin is at his side, fidgety and too silent. He didn’t remember them being so awkward with each other, but then again, a lifetime of events had happened since the last time they were alone together. He can see that Jimin doesn’t know how to talk to him anymore, but Yoongi doesn’t know how to make it easier. They feel like strangers.

There’s tentative smiles and meaningless chit-chat, soon aborted. It is unsettling, standing next to someone so familiar yet so alien. Yoongi catches himself wishing Minhyuk was here, to diffuse the tension with easy laughter and bad jokes. The guy had offered a peace sign, a goofy smile and an _it_ _’s gonna be fine_ as Yoongi left the room, and he keeps replaying it in his mind like a mantra. _It_ _’s gonna be fine._ It’s not, though. He is far from fine.

They’re both standing under a heavy sky. It smells like rain, and Yoongi wishes it would come; something needs to happen, or he’s going to scream. The air is warm. Humid and stagnant. It’s too silent, as if everything was holding its breath. The weather cast had predicted a storm, but it feels like it’s never going to come. Yoongi might be the one to burst first. His hands are clammy and he nervously wipes them on his pants. Jimin catches the movement and offers him a small smile. Nervous, too.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“How do you know?”

“For one, he can’t talk back.”

Yoongi shoots the younger man a slightly baffled look.

“Was that inappropriate? Sorry. It’s just. He’s been like this for some time, so I... got used to it, in a way? It sounds awful. I don’t know. But no one ever jokes anymore. Everything is so _heavy_.”

Yoongi can just nods.

“Your weird friend was right, the other day. I wish… He’s the one in the coma but I feel like all of us are. Everything’s so still. They don’t know if he’s gonna wake-up and sometimes I think that… I mean.”

Jimin stops himself, eyes welling up. There’s something to unearth, there. Yoongi stands a bit closer to him, trying to challenge Kihyun’s quiet way of support, his steady presence.

“What is it, Jiminnie?”

It comes out in a whisper, Jimin wide-eyed, as if he himself cannot believe what he is saying.

“Sometimes I think that if he died, we could finally move on.”

He drives the ball of his hands in his eyes, sheltering himself from Yoongi’s stare and his own guilt.

“And then I feel horrible. But it’s true. I can’t stand this suspended state we’re all in. It’s driving me insane.”

Yoongi stays silent, and Jimin slowly lowers his hands. He stares at his feet, clad in a colorful pair of shoes that he starts to hate immediately. They’re too cheery for someone like him.

“Do you think I’m horrible?”

“No.”

Yoongi hadn’t really thought about how the others might feel beyond their hatred for him, their anger. There’s a hollow in his chest, and Jimin’s sadness settles in it. He reaches out quietly, takes his hand in his.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

There’s a sob mixed with a laugh and Jimin is wiping at his eyes, trying to regain his countenance.

“Yeah, I bet.”

He leaves his hand in Yoongi’s until the bus comes. They don’t talk much more on the way, but something warm settles between them. Jimin sniffles once or twice, Yoongi leaning a bit more against him each time in empathy.

 

Soon enough, they’re standing in a room not unlike the one Yoongi woke up in, after his attempt. Gently biping machinery, the rumor of traffic coming from a small window with closed curtains, white walls and turned off lights. He looks at everything, except at the figure resting on the bed. Jimin nudges him forwards and he takes a hesitant step, stopping a few feet from the edge of the bed. His eyes seem glued to his shoes, but he finally raises them and looks at the familiar face resting on the white pillow.

Seokjin didn’t change. His cheeks have sunk a little, he lost weight. But apart from his unusual thinness, he remains the same. He looks peaceful. Yoongi raises a hand so as to touch his hair, but lets it fall before he can do anything. He sits down in the little chair pushed close to the bed, not knowing if he should say something or not. He turns his head towards Jimin, who retreated against the wall near the door, in an effort to give him privacy without leaving him all alone. The boy looks at him with an encouraging smile and he looks back at Seokjin’s face. And then he bursts, guilt pouring out of him in a deluge of words and tears he had kept buried for way too long.

Jimin listens, sagging to the floor when it gets too much. Yoongi is hunched over on the chair and he can see his shoulders shaking in rhythm with his words and his sobs. He doesn’t intervene. Jimin had learned a lot about guilt, as the feeling that had quietly been eating at him had fully bloomed in his chest when he had heard Yoongi’s name on someone’s lips for the first time in months. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed him, swallowed by anger, grief, hopelessness. But he had had the support of his friends to deal with these feelings. Yoongi had had no one.

He’s about to rise to his feet and go over to him when the door opens without a knock and a tall figure slips into the room. Jimin’s breathe catches in his throat and his eyes darts to Yoongi’s hunched figure.

“Taehyung –”

“Jimin, what the fuck is he doing here?”

Panic seizes him quickly and he scrambles to his feet to push Taehyung outside the room. But it’s too late, Yoongi noticed him and is rising from the chair, wiping at the tears that left red tracks on his cheeks. Taehyung easily shakes Jimin off and strides over to Yoongi, grabbing the smaller man by the collar.

“What are you doing here?!”

Yoongi doesn’t resist the pull, gripping Taehyung’s arm for balance. The look on the other’s face is a mixture of anger and disbelief, his eyes wide, lips parting on a snarl. Yoongi is reminded of his first day back at university, how Taehyung at pounced on him with the exact same expression. He feels like he’s back in time.

“I’m– I needed to see him. Jimin–”

He never sees it coming. The fist collides with his face out of nowhere and he’s thrown off balance, tripping over the chair’s feet and lending hard on the floor, bumping his head on the edge of Jin’s bed. Jimin screams, but Taehyung extends a hand to keep him from going forward. He takes a step towards Yoongi, and grabs roughly at his arm to get him up. The pains sears through Yoongi like a hot flare and he cries out, face contorting. Taehyung lets him go, taken aback.

“What– You hurt?”

“No, I’m–”

He doesn’t have time to finish before Taehyung grabs at his wrist and hikes up his hoodie’s sleeve, uncovering the fresh, ugly scarring all along his inner forearm. Taehyung blanches.

“What the fuck did you do?”

“I just–”

Yoongi finds that he doesn’t have it in him to explain anything to the angry man towering above him. Still reeling from the punch, he scrambles to his feet, and sends an apologetic glance at a panicked Jimin. Then he runs away. He hears Taehyung call out behind him, but doesn’t look back. He just needs to get out. It wasn’t fine after all.

 

Yoongi rides the bus back and misses his stop. It started raining hard as he had stepped into the vehicle. Too late, he thinks. He rests against the cool glass window, willing his head to stop throbbing. There’s a strange stillness inside him. It’s like his heart stopped beating, left behind in Seokjin’s sickroom. His whole body feels numb. Messy feelings had poured out, hooked to the words rushed out of him when he had seen him. All that was left was a profound guilt, rooted deep inside him. And Jimin’s sadness, and Taehyung’s pained anger, swimming in the hollow of his chest.

He closes his eyes, and that’s how he misses his stop. The bus is half empty. Cold and humid. He buries his hands between his thighs but his body has no warmth to give. The rain blurs everything outside the window; he’s buried deep under the sea, and the submarine is leaky. Maybe he falls asleep, and when he opens his eyes again, it’s only him and a guy in a military uniform, looking forlornly out the window. He spares him a glance, rubs the sleep off his face. He recognizes the streets they’re swimming through, the storefronts spilling blurry lights. He’s at least two stops away from his, and when the bus stops again, he takes off, running under the rain.

It soaks him to the bones, his hair sticking unpleasantly to his forehead, but there’s something exhilarating at running ahead of the storm. For a short instant, he only feels the burn in his lungs and the rain splattering his face, freed of everything else. But when he skids to a stop in front of the hospital doors, everything catches up to him, Jin’s peaceful face surfacing in his mind. His face is throbbing where Taehyung punched him, his clothes stick to his skin, and his legs hurt from the sudden exercise. His chest is constricting and he wants to scream. He doesn’t.

Instead, he goes to the courtyard, ducking in doorways when he comes across hospital staff.  It’s dinner time, the corridors are almost empty. He doesn’t want to face anyone.

The doors are still opened. It hasn’t stopped raining, and he stands against the wall under the porch, trying to calm himself the way his therapist showed him. It isn’t long before the door opens again, and a familiar voice reaches his ears.  

“I was sure it was you.”

Himchan pokes his head through the opening, a lopsided smile on his face. Yoongi turns his head towards him, eyes dark.

“How do you keep showing up when I want to be alone?”

The nurse slips through the door and goes to stand next to Yoongi, hands in his pockets.

“To be perfectly honest, I always come here at dinner time. So it’s your own fault. Find somewhere else to sulk.”

“Why?”

“Trying to avoid my colleagues.”

Himchan winces, and it brings a furtive smile to Yoongi’s lips.

“What did they do to you?”

“I can’t bitch about my colleagues to a patient.”

“I barely see you as a nurse, hyung.”

“And I’ve been so good to you.”

Himchan mock-cries before crouching down on his haunches, pulling yet another bar of chocolate out of his scrubs.

“Isn’t your roommate going to kill you, if you keep stealing from him?”

“I deserve this. Plus, he eats enough as it is. Now, can I ask why you are soaked, and what happened to your face?”

Yoongi’s hand comes to rest on his cheekbone. There’s definitely a swell there, hot and painful to the touch. He considers Himchan crouched at his feet, munching away on his stolen chocolate bar. Then his sight goes to embrace the courtyard, cold and grey. But the rain platters the leaves with a soothing sound, and a nice smell raises in the air. He clothes his eyes, takes a deep breath.

“I went to see Seokjin.”

“I assume he’s not the one who decked you one.”

“Ha, funny. Taehyung, another friend, he showed up and… Yeah, it didn’t end well.”

“Chocolate?”

He opens his eyes to the light again, and Himchan is still at his feet, extending his half-eaten bar of chocolate towards him. Yoongi takes it. It’s really good chocolate. Himchan’s roommate has good tastes.

“How do you feel about seeing Seokjin?”

“That it should have been me.”

“And about Taehyung?”

“That he thinks the same.”

Himchan has crossed his arms on top of his knees and rests his chin upon it. It’s a precarious position, but he looks almost snug. His eyes rest on the trees swaying in the courtyard, a deep sigh escaping his lips.

“It should have been no one. That’s the thing with accidents, they’re not supposed to happen.”

“I was drunk as fuck. I shouldn’t have driven.”

“He still got in the car with you. They were dozens of people at this party that should have stopped you.”

“Don’t try to excuse me.”

“I’m not. I’m just stating facts.”

A gust of wind carrying droplets of water falls on them and Himchan shivers, wipes his face with his hand. The skies have turned a deep, dark blue. Feels like the storm is finally upon them. Himchan looks up at the silent boy standing next to him. There’s another storm waiting to happen, here, and he shivers again. Yoongi has no anger. There’s no tears, no lashing out, to warn of what’s happening inside him. He just withdraws, silent and resigned. Himchan is good at emotions. He’s good at containing exploding anger and tearful pain. He doesn’t know what to do with vacant eyes and cold silents. 

That’s the hardest part of his job. When he knows a dark spell is incoming, and fears he won’t be able to handle it. He’s getting tired, too. He never quite managed to distance himself from his patients, and he knows his walls are all too flimsy. It weighs him down like an anchor.

He gets up, and they stand side to side in silence for a while.

“Is that what Taehyung said?”

“What?”

“That it should have been you.”

“No. He just asked why I was here and then punched me.”

“Sounds like a guy who knows how to handle his feelings.”

Yoongi sends a tired look his way and Himchan smiles his lopsided grin again.

“Sorry. I think you should talk to the guy. He may not think that.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

Himchan thinks it over for a minute.

“I think nobody ever thinks that. It’s just something they put in movies because it sounds dramatic.”

“You really think talking solves everything, don’t you?”

“You’d be surprised how often I’m right.”

Himchan extends his hand and watches the droplets of rain hit his skin. Yoongi’s staring at them, too, and his somber look seems softer, in the subdued light of the fading afternoon.

“It did. Help. Sometimes. Ms Lee. And Minhyuk. Even you.”

“Not Kihyun?”

Yoongi makes a face at him, doesn’t answer. He’s keeping Kihyun to himself. Himchan brings his hand back, wipes it on his chest.

“I know it’s not everything. But it’s something. I will make an appointment for you tomorrow morning, all right? And, Yoongi. I already told you, but… You’re here to heal. We want to help you because it’s worth it, not out of some sort of misguided hero complex. You need to understand that you’re worth it. It should not have been you.”

Yoongi just nods, staring at the ground. Thunder’s rumbling in the distance, and that seems to jolt him out of his thoughts. He shakes himself off the wall, pushes his hair back in a nervous gesture.

“Yeah, okay. I’m gonna go. I’m gonna put something on my face. And change.”

Himchan nods, smiles.

“I’ll keep hiding here for a bit.”

Yoongi is gone, the door closing softly behind him. Himchan sinks to the ground again. If he hadn’t been bullied into quitting, he would be lighting a cigarette right now. He feels raw. On edge. Doesn’t know if he said the right things, if he managed to pull Yoongi back, even just a little. They said it would get easier with time, but it doesn’t. He folds a bit more over himself and watches the rain fall.

 

Minhyuk looks up from his book as Yoongi trudges into the room, bringing a good amount of rain with him.

“So, I guess it didn’t go fine.”

Yoongi doesn’t spare him a glance, goes for his wardrobe immediately, rummages until he finds a change of clothes and his towel.

“I’m gonna go take a shower.”

Minhyuk doesn’t let him, though. He’s leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest. He’s curious, but there’s real concern behind those eyes. Yoongi feels annoyed.

“Did he wake-up just to punch you?”

“Ha. You and Himchan hyung should really start a comedy duo.”

“No way. He’s no fun these days.”

“I ran into a door.”

Minhyuk’s face scrunches up and his fingers start busying themselves at scratching a spot of peeling paint on the doorframe.

“I so believe you. I haven’t believed anything so much in my entire life.”

“I got the point, Minhyuk.”

Yoongi’s voice is clipped. He tries to avoid looking at the passing shadow of hurt on Minhyuk’s face.

“Just say you don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay. Have a nice shower, then.”

Minhyuk pulls himself off the door and Yoongi goes through, stopping himself just as he’s about to close it.

“What do you mean, Himchan’s no fun these days?”

“You didn’t notice?”

Minhyuk’s face is genuine, eyebrows raised, peaking through the opening.

“He’s getting sad.”

Yoongi hasn’t noticed. Yoongi doesn’t notice a lot of what’s going on outside his head, it seems.

“It’s gonna be fine. He’s stronger than us.”

Yoongi absently nods, closes the door. He wonders how many other things he missed, while locked up in his own mind. _He may not think that._ There was more hurt than anger in Taehyung’s eyes. _If he was dead, we could finally move on._ There was infinite sadness in Jimin’s.

 

“How do you feel?”

It’s routine, now. Laying on Hyungwon’s bed. The other looks at him from his desk chair, his long legs extended to rest on the mattress, next to Kihyun’s own.   

“Better? Relieved. Happy, I guess.”

He leaves out the part where he’s overcome with a wave of deep affection each time he looks at one of his friends. He hopes it will go away soon. He feels like a sap.

Hyungwon nods.

“Can I ask something else?”

“Sure.”

“Are you okay with waiting?”

Hyungwon’s voice is a bit hesitant. Kihyun raises himself on his elbows to look as his face. There’s worry on his smooth features.

“What do you mean?”

“You know. For him. Yoongi. It could take a while before he… before he gets alright. It can… it can be hard.”

Hyungwon swallows uneasily, avoiding looking Kihyun directly in the eyes. He settles on staring at his bony hands folded in his lap instead. The real question is, _are you strong enough to get through something like this, again?_ It hadn’t been easy with Minhyuk. For any of them. But they had pulled through, maybe a little more brittle around the edges. If Minhyuk wasn’t out of the woods yet, Yoongi was another matter altogether.

So Kihyun ponders the question for a moment. He would need to find this strength again, the strength to carry him through countless crisis and crushed hopes and a constant, nagging fear at the back of his mind, that all might be vain. He would need this strength to be unwavering, because he couldn’t crumble and give up halfway through. He had promised Yoongi he would stay through all of it, had promised himself he wouldn’t be complicated, that he would wait and be there. And now Hyungwon was asking if he was going to pull through.

There is no hesitation is his voice when he speaks again, a determined look settling on his face.

“I told him I will stay with him, and I will. I am ready.”

Hyungwon looks at him for a few seconds, dark eyes searching. His features settle a bit, lines of worry disappearing around the edges of his mouth.

“You don’t just like him, you love him, don’t you?”

It’s Kihyun’s turn to look down at his hands, staring at his fingers as if they were holding an undeniable truth. Maybe they are.

“I guess… I guess I do.”

He looks up at Hyungwon, a small, nervous smile on his lips.

“It’s a bit scary. I’m not… not really ready yet. I don’t know. I just know I want to be there. With him.”

“Okay.”

It’s a simple word, for something that holds so much. Understanding, acceptance, support.

“If you need to talk, though… We’ve been through it, too. We know how it is. We’re here.”

Kihyun nods and lets himself fall back on the bed. He knows. There’s a weight lifting off his chest, little by little, replaced by an unwavering confidence, a knowledge, that he can do it. They all grew stronger, following Minhyuk through his personal hell. They didn’t mind the worry and the hurt. It was always worth it.

“He’s doing better. Minhyuk.”

“I know. It shows.”

There’s a feeling like liquid gold stirring in his chest. He knows his eyes are welling and doesn’t do anything to stop the tears from spilling towards his temples.

“I’m so freaking relieved. Sometimes it felt like… Like he was disappearing before our eyes. I was so scared half the time.”

He feels the bed dip, and Hyungwon wedges himself between the wall and Kihyun.

“We wouldn’t have let him. Disappear, I mean. We still won’t. And, you know. For Yoongi. If you guys need help or whatever. We’re here too. I mean, we all like him, you don’t even have to ask.”

There’s a smile on Kihyun’s face and he closes his eyes, shifting to accommodate Hyungwon’s long limbs.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would really like to thank all the people who have left comments (and kudos!), it really helps me gain confidence, and it's just really sweet. I'm soft ;_;  
> And more generally, thanks to everyone who takes an interest in this fic. It's quite a challenge for me to write something that long, as I'm usually more into short stories, so it means a lot that people enjoy it. 
> 
> I have half a mind to do a spinoff or something about Himchan's character after this is done, would anyone be interested in that?


	8. Glad my misery amuses you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first confrontation with Taehyung brings about another one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have mixed feelings about this chapter... I'm a in a bit of a wiring slump nowadays, but I am forcing myself to write anyway otherwise I will stop for about three years again. I even joined NaNoWriMo cause I hate myself and I need new ways to procrastinate my thesis, which I have yet to write a word of. Anyway enough ramblings, hope you enjoy this (slightly short) chapter!

“What the hell happened to your face?”

Yoongi is lounging in the armchair by the window, barely lifting his eyes to look at Kihyun standing in the doorway, hand still gripping the handle. He drops his attention back to his book, mumbling, “I walked into a door.”

Kihyun shifts by the entryway. There is a wall of barely-there hostility he has to push through before entering. He goes to sit on the edge of the bed, looking at Yoongi who is pointedly not looking at him, instead boring holes into the pages of his book.

Kihyun chews the inside of his cheek, silent. Outside the window, the trees are slowly losing their leaves. It is too still, too silent. He wishes for a car to pass by, a dog to bark, something that would breach the quiet tension that is slowly encasing them in its grip. Yoongi is closing in on himself, and for the first time, Kihyun isn’t sure how to reach out. He nervously glances over his shoulder to the empty room behind him, wishing Minhyuk would come back from wherever he had gone to. Minhyuk had been slippery lately, flitting from one place to another, jumping in and out of conversations, offering glimpses of a bright smile before disappearing through a door. Yet he had never felt as alive as he was now, a small whirlwind of his own.

Shaking out of his thoughts, Kihyun settles his eyes on Yoongi’s hand gripping the hardcover, as far from Minhyuk as fire is to water. His knuckles are almost white. Kihyun swallows uneasily. Yoongi isn’t turning any pages.

“Is that the lie you told Minhyuk?”

“Maybe. I don’t want to talk about it.”

 “Who hit you?”

“Why do you care?”

“Seriously? Yoongi, come on.”

Yoongi’s eyes are on him now, and there’s a fire in them he had yet to see. Anger.

“Damnit, why does everybody keep insisting? I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

Anger is okay. Anger is something you can deal with. Kihyun is slowly smiling and it seems to infuriate Yoongi even more. He throws the book on the bed and bores his stare into Kihyun’s face, but his resolve is wavering. Truth be told, Yoongi doesn’t know where this anger is coming from. He had been perfectly calm ever since the encounter with Taehyung. His psychiatrist had asked, _how does that make you feel,_ and he had been unable to answer. It was pitch black inside of him, and he had only shrugged. Now, though. Everything was irritating. The itch on his back that he couldn’t reach. The too bright light falling on the too white pages. Kihyun’s smile. His not-so comfortable position on the chair. Something got to give, or he’s going to implode.

“This is fun for you?”

“No, just, I’ve never seen you angry before.”

The smile grows bigger and Yoongi bites his lips, seemingly torn between wanting to scream in Kihyun’s face or take the high road and ignore him. He settles on sulking, sinking in his sit, arms crossed on his chest, staring straight ahead of him.

“Well, glad that my misery amuses you.”

Kihyun shifts closer, repeatedly poking Yoongi in the shoulder with his index finger. This is annoying, too, and Yoongi shoots him a dark look, to no avail. Kihyun keeps on poking, and keeps on talking.

“You don’t have to feel so miserable just for walking into a door. It happens, you know. To err is human and all that.”

Yoongi breathes hard, and as if on cue, a slow breeze picks up outside. The trees start swaying, raining dead leaves on the sidewalk. He spares them a glance, and something seems to settle inside him. His anger, like a cat kneading on his heart. Somehow it feels warm rather than cold, giving sharp relief to everything, as when waking up after fainting, and he thinks that maybe sometimes, anger can be a good thing.

“Are you planning on annoying me into talking?”

 Kihyun shrugs, drops his hand in his lap.

“Don’t give me too much credit, I’m making it up as I go. Like pretty much everything else these days.”

Yoongi cocks an eyebrow at him, crossing his arms on the armrest and resting his head on top. Kihyun starts absently playing with his hair, and Yoongi closes his eyes.

“It’s not so bad, though. Takes off some of the pressure of thinking about everything. Maybe you should try it.”

A half-smile lifts the corner of Yoongi’s mouth, and he sinks into Kihyun’s touch. The hand in his hair makes him feel grounded, and maybe the bright light of early afternoon isn’t so annoying anymore. He sighs again, and starts talking.

“Remember how I went with Jimin to visit Seokjin? Well, Taehyung was there and he decked me one. Then it went to crap.”

Kihyun drops his hand from Yoongi’s hair to weave their fingers together. The latter still doesn’t open his eyes.

“What do you mean, it went to crap?”

“I ran away. He saw my arm. I didn’t want to explain so I just left. I bet it got real dramatic with just Jimin and a coma patient there to lighten the mood.”

Kihyun is drawing patterns on his skin and Yoongi tries to only feel the warmth of the other’s hand, not the pain in his face or in his mind, hiding under layers of apathy and anger.

“Jimin would have explained.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what I’m afraid of. He doesn’t really know anything. He’s gonna make it sound like I’m the victim in all this and it’s gonna piss off Taehyung even more.”

“So what you’re saying is that you should have explained yourself instead of running away.”

Yoongi shifts, brows furrowing. He’s itching again, irked, and he sits upright, opening his eyes, looking at Kihyun who’s staring at their linked fingers.

“You’re a smart one, aren’t you.”

The fingers tighten around his and Yoongi feels a pang of guilt. He’s about to apologize when Minhyuk enters their room. He barely spares them a glance and goes to sit at his desk, fishing around for the book he was reading before being rudely interrupted by group therapy.

“Are you trying to comfort him for the black eye he got by running into a door?”

“Minhyuk...”

“Also, there’s a tall guy who’s like 90% shoulders getting into an argument with a nurse about how he’s not on the visitors list. He didn’t even greet me back, which is rude.”

Yoongi freezes in place, and it doesn’t help that Kihyun is looking at him with stunned eyes, mouthing ‘Taehyung?’ at him.

“Fuck.”

Minhyuk spins in his chair, chewing on a pen. He has his glasses on, and Yoongi is pretty sure he is putting on a show.

“Would he have anything to do with that new look you’re sporting? I’m pretty sure he does. I know I’m not invited to all your little whispery conspiracies but I’m not as dumb as I look.”

“You don’t look dumb.”

Minhyuk sends a pointed look Kihyun’s way, who shrivels in place. Sometimes Minhyuk looks too much like a disappointed teacher.

“I know I don’t. Yoongi, I can’t believe you don’t retaliate when people hit you, that’s like, the basics. You should probably go talk to him before he’s tossed out by security.”

At that he swivels back and pretends to write something in his book. Yoongi is a bit speechless, while Kihyun is now visibly trying to stifle a laugh, before lightly shoving him. He lets his hand linger on Yoongi’s arm.

“He’s right, you know.”

“Of course I’m right”, Minhyuk mumbles from his side of the room.

“You should go. He’s not gonna wait forever and he seems like the kind of person who gets more pissed the longer he waits. Want me to come with you?”

Yoongi stares blankly in front of him, before dropping his stare to Kihyun’s hand. He squeezes it once, and gets up, shaking his head.

“I probably should do this alone.”

He leaves the room quickly, back tense. Left alone, Kihyun switches from the bed to the armchair and clears his throat in an effort to catch Minhyuk’s attention. The other doesn’t move but Kihyun is almost sure he sees his ears physically perk up.

“Minhyukie… Are you actually pissed at me?”

Minhyuk theatrically swivels in his chair again and settles his pretty eyes on Kihyun.

“Nah, not really. I think it’s good that someone meddles in Yoongi’s business, cause the rate it is going, he’s gonna spend eternity in here. I think it’s good it’s you, cause when you guys meddled in mine, it helped save my life. I also think you’re way beyond just liking him at that point, right?”

“I’m not gonna say no.”

“Well, good. He has a fair bit of roman tragedy in him though, so I wish you good luck.”

“Yeah, I noticed” says Kihyun, reclining on the armchair. There is no time for contemplation though, as Minhyuk stands up suddenly and takes off his glasses.

“Come on, let’s go spy on them.”

Kihyun considers protesting for a minute, although there is no arguing when Minhyuk gets this look on his face, but it would be a lie to say he didn’t want to. So they quietly file out the door, Kihyun feeling guilty enough for the both of them.

 

When Yoongi reaches him, Taehyung is pacing back and forth into the small waiting room. He lingers by the door, his skin prickling, wipes his hands on his jeans once or twice, too nervous to make a move. He doesn’t have to, though, when he’s about to renounce and go back, Taehyung spots him. He stops, staring at Yoongi, and it is impossible to tell what he is feeling.

“So that’s where you were.”

His voice is cold, hands balling into fists before he strengthens them again. Yoongi takes a breath and steps into the room, feeling the tension crashing down on him. He cannot look at Taehyung.

“I’m sorry for–”

Yoongi starts, but never finishes. Taehyung comes up to him, too close, and explodes. Yoongi can just stare.

“I never wanted you to disappear. I wanted you to own up to it. You’re weak, and a coward. You never faced me. You never faced any of us, you just decided how we felt and disappeared. I’m fucking pissed at you Yoongi. And not just for what you did to Jin. Which I’m also pissed at for going into a car with a drunk idiot. I’m so sick of this whole mess and Jin still isn’t fucking waking up and nobody can tell me why and I feel like punching everything. I’m not even sorry for your fucking eye. You didn’t even punch back! Why didn’t you? Stand up for yourself for once instead of looking sorry for your damn existence all the time, I fucking cannot stand any of this anymore, I –”

There’s something swelling inside Yoongi, a warm, solid feeling that starts in his belly and invades his whole being. The cat curling around his heart loosen its grip and it’s lava that spills in his veins, tension suddenly leaving his body. He sees clearly again. Taehyung’s strained voice echoes in his head, and yeah, he isn’t sorry for his eye either, and Taehyung’s weary anger deserves an answer. So he stops thinking, closes the gap between them, and he punches him.

It is weak, because he still cannot really make a whole fist, and he misses his target because Taehyung is so freaking tall, but the nose is as good as the eye, he guesses. Taehyung looks stunned for a second, but then he grabs him by the hair and punches him in the kidneys, which elicits a yelp because _damn that hurt_ , and since they are apparently going for the dirty stuff Yoongi latches onto Taehyung with a scream and a fury he didn’t think he had in him. At some point they fall on the floor, Yoongi is pretty sure there is blood in his good eye, his or Taehyung, he doesn’t know, but he is too busy planting his teeth in a broad shoulder to care. Taehyung is screaming jumbled up words while swatting at his head, and Yoongi only let go when he feels a metallic taste in his mouth.

By then someone else is screaming, and they get ripped apart by strong arms that definitely belong to a security guard while he hears a familiar voice above him.

 “Yoongi, I take back what I said about you not retaliating. Way to go, dude.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think writing fight scenes helps release pressure lmao I'm so sorry for damaging those boys.


	9. Taehyung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes all you need is a good hook to the face. Taehyung and Yoongi get down to talking, and Minhyuk hears a good news.

“That’s it. The other one now.”

Yoongi lets his right arm fall on his side and lifts the other one, opening and closing his hand for Himchan, who’s light fingers are brushing his wrist, feeling the tendons under the skin.

“Okay, you’re good.”

“Anything else?”

He’s sitting on a bare hospital bed in a small examination room, Himchan on a tall stool next to him. There are no windows and the artificial light sheds a hard glare upon them, drawing sharp angles on their faces. It’s hard to tell how much time has passed since he was dragged away from Taehyung, still kicking.

“How are the ribs?”

“It doesn’t hurt. He didn’t hit that hard.”

Himchan nods and a small smile creeps on his lips. He turns around to hide it, seemingly fiddling with a tray of instruments set upon a small counter. Yoongi narrows his eyes at him, not impressed in the least.

“What’s so funny?”

The nurse turns back, smile in full bloom.

“Nothing. Just. That was something, wasn’t it. You. Fighting.”

Yoongi’s answer is prudent, not understanding where the other is going with this.

“I…guess.”

There had been a storm brewing, on that day under the hail. Himchan remembers the withdrawn silences, the weariness, the slight hostility. Frustration had morphed into anger, but instead of crumbling from the inside out, Yoongi had exploded, raining angry fists and desperate cries on his grim world.

“Don’t you feel a bit better?”

Yoongi sits back, a pensive look on his face. His eyes lock on Himchan features, who is smoothing his scrubs in an absent gesture.

“I guess?”

He feels empty. Something dark and angry has been poured out of him, replaced by a quiet emptiness that for the first time lets his thoughts echo clearly in his mind. He feels empty, but strangely at peace.

“I feel... Yeah. I do feel better. It’s weird, isn’t it? I punched a dude and now everything feels clearer somehow. If I had known it was this easy I would have decked you one ages ago.”

Himchan chuckles lightly, rolls back the stool, still fidgeting with his wrinkly scrubs.

“I guess you needed a specific dude to make the magic work.”

He comically opens his hands in front of his face, in a smooth gesture meant to figure the magic. Yoongi still looks lost in thoughts as Himchan gets up, urging him to do the same.

“Ms. Lee wants to talk to you. And you should probably talk to that Taehyung person too.”

Yoongi’s head snaps up at the name.

“How is he?”

“Pretty good. I mean we had to stuff his nose with cotton so he’s looking super handsome right now, but he’s okay. No lasting damages.”

“Is he in trouble?”

Himchan shakes his head.

“Nah. First, you started it, and Ms. Lee dissuaded the hospital to press any charges. She seems to think it’s a positive thing, that fight.”  

 

She calls it cathartic. Says that somehow this is what he needed. A good fight. Or “exteriorizing his feelings”. Yoongi isn’t sure he should have been exteriorizing them all over someone else’s face but he doesn’t question her. He’s sitting in her tiny office, the tinier woman almost lost in the huge leather desk chair she’s reclining in. That’s progress, she says. Now there is a discussion to be had. He tells her about the emptiness inside of him, how he feels strangely calm, almost serene. She smiles. It’s good, she says. Now he can choose what to fill himself with.

The session leaves him with more questions than answers, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. As he rounds a corner, Himchan is waiting for him, taking him where Taehyung is waiting. It’s a deserted corridor, with a window at one end that does its best with the waning light of the late-afternoon. It’s a bit chilly, and Yoongi stands unmoving next to Himchan, staring at the slumped figure sitting alone at the end of a row of empty sits. The nurse rests his tall frame against the wall, crosses his arms on his chest. He’ll wait here, he says, keeping an eye on the exchange, close enough to intervene but far enough that he won’t intrude. Yoongi hesitates again, but his newfound calmness pushes him forward and he pads over to Taehyung, sitting on the horrible grey-colored plastic sits.

Taehyung doesn’t move. He’s slumped forward, elbows resting on his parted knees, hands clasped together, head low. They stay like this for a while, silent, the still air around them only shifting when a nurse rushes past. When she disappears around the corner, Taehyung finally speaks.

“You really have a shitty hook, you know that.”

“Yeah. I did make you bleed, though.”

The taller man reclines back on the sit, turning his face to look at Yoongi. He looks tired. His nose has stopped bleeding, but there’s a slight swell that betrays the punch he took.

“I guess I deserved it.”

There’s a small smile creasing his lips and Yoongi feels something drop inside him. Taehyung opens his mouth to add something, but Yoongi cuts him off, his words coming out in a rush.

“I missed… I missed you. I didn’t know what to do after it happened. So I just… I thought it would be better if I wasn’t there. You were all so angry. I didn’t know what to do or say. I didn’t deserve… I don’t know. I didn’t deserve what we had anymore.”

Taehyung lets Yoongi’s words hang between them for a few seconds. The corridor seems too impersonal, too sterile, for something like this. He isn’t good with words, with emotions. Neither of them is. He turns away from Yoongi, dropping his eyes to his own hands twisting in his lap.

“I didn’t know… How to deal with all this either. Anger comes easy. You don’t have to think. It gets you through. But I’m… I’m sorry I punched you. In Jin’s room, I mean. It just came out. I didn’t know how to react. And I meant what I said earlier, but… It’s not just you. We were all cowards. We didn’t face any of it. We just let ourselves be stirred by anger and everything got so fucked up. I wish it didn’t play out like this, but it’s too late. And it’s still so hard.”

Yoongi nods, even though Taehyung can’t see him. He’s starring ahead, at the white paint coating the corridor. Taehyung has started to pull at the skin around his nails and Yoongi stares at the nervous gesture, before he slowly grabs Taehyung’s wrist and stirs his hand away. Taehyung looks down at the hand clasped on his wrist and for a split second Yoongi is scared he went too far, that Taehyung is going to push him off, but he doesn’t. He just stares, and his face smooths out, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“Jimin screamed at me. He never does, usually. He said I was a jerk, that we all were, and that you didn’t deserve this. I had never seen him this mad, until he started crying. It was a real mess. It’s been really hard on him. We didn’t look out for each other like we used too. We should have stuck together. Instead we all got stuck inside our own heads.”

Taehyung has a strange laugh, and seems to shake himself out of some sort of reverie. The same nurse passes them by again, the other way, and smiles at them when she does. Taehyung smiles back.

“It’s weird. I never really talked about this with anyone, and it ends up being with you that I do.”

“They’re really keen on talking here.”

“Guess I see the point now.”

Taehyung slides down in his chair, Yoongi straight as rod next to him, both staring at the wall opposite them. It’s easier, to not look at each other. Soon enough, Yoongi feels a weight on his shoulder and Taehyung’s voice resonates closer to his ear.

“If… if you had died, I…”

“It’s okay. I’m better now.”

He feels Taehyung nod against his shoulder, and they stay like this for a while, unmoving. It’s a strange comfort, as if the slightest noise could shatter the fragile peace between them. But as they share in each other’s warmth, something tentative settles between them, something known but not yet familiar. After a while, Taehyung stirs and sits up, turning to face Yoongi who stares back at him. There’s hesitation is his face when he speaks.

“I should go. But can I… Can I visit you again?  We should… We should talk more.”

“Sure. I’ll put you on the list.”

There’s a ghost of a smile, and Taehyung bids him farewell, nodding at Himchan when he passes by him. Yoongi stays sited, not sure how to process what just happened. He’s looking towards the window when Himchan plants himself in front of him, concern painted on his features.

“You okay?”

Yoongi looks up at him, and his mouth suddenly twitches in a small smile. The empty corridor doesn’t seem so cold anymore, everything tinted with a warm glow from the setting sun.

“Yeah, I am. I think… this is good. It’s weird, but it’s good. I don’t know. He’ll come back.”

Himchan nods, and more or less pilots him out of the corridor after a few words. Yoongi drifts back to his room, almost in a trance. A bark of laughter brings him back when he opens the door, and there’s Minhyuk siting crossed-legged on his covers, lightly punching Shownu on the shoulder, who’s beaming next to him. Kihyun is looking at them from the armchair, and all but bolts from his chair when he sees Yoongi enter.

“How are you?”

There’s a rustle from Minhyuk’s side and before he can say anything the blond is peering into his face.

“You look kinda badass like this. So what happened?”

Yoongi pushes past them, going to sit on his own bed, the two trailing after him. Shownu gives him an encouraging little smile from his perch on Minhyuk’s bed.

“I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt anymore. Ms. Lee was over the moon and I talked to Taehyung and… and it’s gonna be all right. I mean, stuff need figuring out but… It seems like it’s gonna be all right. I guess violence sometimes is the answer.”

Minhyuk narrows his eyes at him, seemingly thinking his words over before suddenly clasping Kihyun on the back, who stumbles forward.

“All right, I’m satisfied. I’m gonna leave you two alone, I bet Kihyun has some more nagging to do.”

“I don’t nag.”

“If you say so, my friend.”

Minhyuk walks backwards to his side of the room, only turning when he closes the curtain with a wink.

“What’s up with him?”

Kihyun sits down on the bed next to Yoongi, and cannot keep himself from smiling.

“When you were gone, he had therapy and… They’re discussing his release. They think he’s stable enough. He’s been all giddy ever since.”

Yoongi stares back, speechless for a split second.

“Wow. This is huge.”

“Yeah…”

“You’re happy.”

“Yeah.”

The smile is in full force then, and Yoongi cannot remember having seen Kihyun this bright.

“It’s going to take a couple of weeks, but…”

Kihyun doesn’t finish, suddenly feeling bashful, and drops his eyes to their intertwined hands. Yoongi had grabbed his somewhere along the lines and he hadn’t even notice. He looks back up, at Yoongi’s damaged face, and his smiles dims.

“How about you, though?”

“I’m okay.”

The news of Minhyuk release comes as more of a shock than he would care to admit. It hit him hard, that he had been too caught up in his own issues to see his friend change. To see how Minhyuk had stopped crying after his therapy sessions. How Changkyun still came too early, how they would still talk in hushed whispers behind a closed curtain, but how when he would leave, Changkyun wouldn’t look as drained anymore, always sparing a bright smile for Yoongi. How Shownu would open up more, smile more, leaving the curtain open when he was there, playing passionate games of go stop with an inflamed Minhyuk. How Hyungwon’s tall frame would sleepily drape itself around Minhyuk for peaceful afternoon naps. How Jooheon and Hoseok seemed to be the happiest of all, just coming by whenever to chat excitedly and scream over movies.

Kihyun seems to see something pass on his face, as he brings himself closer, and gives his hand a gentle squeeze.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just. I didn’t notice.”

“Notice what?”

“Minhyuk. I didn’t know he was doing so much better. I didn’t notice.”

Kihyun has a gentle smile, brushes a strand of hair out of Yoongi’s eyes.

“It’s okay. You have a lot on your plate. Nobody minds.”

“It’s not just that. I didn’t think… I didn’t think it was possible. To come back from that.”

“Oh.”

“But he did it, though. And he seems. You know. Sure of himself. Happy.”

“You will, too. You’re doing it right now.”

“Yeah, I guess… I guess I am.”

There’s a smile; Kihyun frames his face with his hands and kisses him. That’s it. That’s what he wants to put in the emptiness within himself. Kihyun’s warmth and gentleness, his nagging, too. Taehyung’s will to makes things better. Minhyuk’s strength and stubbornness.

“Will you guys still come, after Minhyuk is gone? I mean, I know you will, but the others…”

Kihyun laugh and hugs him gently, stroking the back of his head.

“Of course they will. Jooheon planned you at least thirty mixtapes, you won’t escape him even if you try.”

Yoongi nods, clutching at Kihyun’s shirt.

“Okay, good. Things are changing, and it’s a bit scary. But scary good. I don’t know. I need to think about today.”

Kihyun nods, disentangling himself from Yoongi. He kisses him again, just because, and it feels simple, easy. Like how it should be. Yoongi talking about what is happening to him. Yoongi being here in the moment, available. Walls have come down and Kihyun’s incessantly amazed by what he finds behind.


	10. Hoseok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taehyung takes Yoongi to meet Hoseok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well well well, finally an update. I hit a dry spell and then I was away from home (and my computer) for a few days, which was good because it made me want to write again. So here we are! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, thank you to all who have been following this.

Yoongi’s running. He has the sun in his eyes and the too-strong wind makes them water; he can barely see where it is he’s stumbling to. When he trips in the middle of the pedestrian crossing, as the countdown under the stoplight is three seconds away of lending him in the middle of traffic, a warm hand clasps his and Kihyun’s smiling face is spilling into his vision. Kihyun’s laughing, pulling him with him, spelling something about being late, and they take off again, stepping on the sidewalk just as the cars start whooshing past them.

They were already out of breath when they stepped out of the seventh exit at Mullae station, climbing the too-many steps two by two, and now Yoongi feels like his chest is going to burst. But Kihyun’s laughing, his slender hand not leaving his; there’s a warm feeling of anticipation curling in his belly, and the scenery rushing past them as their feet hit the pavement brings about a feeling of exhilaration. He can’t help the gummy grin that splits his face in half, and when Kihyun turns back to look at him for a second, a bright laugh escapes him.

They round a corner and all but smack into Taehyung, who was walking to meet them, worried they wouldn’t show. Kihyun’s laugh turns slightly hysterical, and Yoongi feels apprehension uncoiling at his sight. They haven’t really talked since the hospital, not until the message Taehyung sent him. _GBN, saturday. He_ _’s playing at 8._ There is no time to be awkward though, Taehyung is already walking back, grumbling about them being late as if it was on purpose. Kihyun sends him a pretty offensive gesture when he bolts past him, and Taehyung takes off after him, screaming and laughing. Yoongi wonders for a bit when these two ever had the time to get to know each other, if that’s even the case, before realizing they’re both leaving him in their dust.

He skids to a halt in front of the venue, where Taehyung is already exchanging a few words with a bearded man that Yoongi recognizes as the owner. The man looks surprised when he spots him, and Yoongi awkwardly bows. He used to be a regular. All of them were. It feels a bit strange, to be back in such a familiar place, when the last time he was here, it was as a completely different person. He wonders if it shows, as the owner ushers them inside without trying to talk to him.

Nothing changed. The narrow staircase is still covered in flyers of past shows and band stickers, there’s still a small blackboard with the program scrawled in white chalk, and the first thing you hear is still the aggressive bass of the playing band, thumping in your chest like a second heartbeat. Kihyun grabs Yoongi’s hand again, as if sensing his slight discomfort. They’re down the stairs, and Kihyun looks back at him before opening the glass door that will lead them into the basement venue. Yoongi almost imperceptibly nods and Kihyun smiles, pushing the door open.

A low ceiling covering a too-warm room, the sound engineer stuck against the wall behind his console, the cashier sitting next to him on a stool, head bobbing to the rhythm doled out by the band standing on the makeshift stage. Nothing changed here either. There’s still refrigerators for beers next to the door, and a small table to sell the bands’ merchandising. The only thing that changed is that they finally repaired the hole in the stage, where Hoseok stuck his foot once, after a particularly enthusiastic jump.

An almost solid wall of sound smacks into him as they step in, and he has to stop and close his eyes to try and get used to the sudden noise and warmth that engulf him. He feels Kihyun shift next to him and opens an eye to see him put in ear plugs, before he grabs him by the hand again, and leads him to stand next to Taehyung, near the stage. It’s a small venue, a small band, a small crowd. There is no one to hide behind, and Yoongi is finally obligated to raise his eyes and look at the people playing on stage.

It’s like being back in time. Hoseok has the same kind of grungy sweater he always wears, making goofy faces while his guitar screams under his singer’s powerful vocals. He stands out. He always stood out. Yoongi feels someone’s jumping next to him and it takes a while to realize it’s Kihyun, who’s completely abandoning his usual composure, and Yoongi can only smile in watching him wild out. He turns his head then, and Hoseok is watching him. The guitarist visibly blanches, as if seeing a ghost, and Yoongi suddenly realizes Taehyung probably didn’t warn him he was coming. He’s trying to figure out how to disappear into the earth when Hoseok has a face splitting grin and nods at him, before schooling his features into something more appropriate for a hardcore show.

Yoongi feels more at ease then. Anxiety sweeps out of him to evaporate into the hot air, and he lets himself dissolve in the music, eyes closed, heartbeat synching with the deep thumping of the bass. Soon he’s jumping with the rest of them, screaming and sweating, forgetting himself. For a couple of minutes there is no Yoongi anymore, just something pulsating, something defined by the moment, just purely living. And he’s happy. His chest is bursting with a warm feeling close to complete elation. He looks at Kihyun next to him, bright and laughing, eyes sparkling, and yeah, maybe there is more to life than hospital walls.

There’s a pause between two songs and Taehyung suddenly squeezes his shoulder with an unfiltered smile, hair plastered to his brow by sweat, eyes bright. Yoongi recognizes the first accords of the song, because he’s the one who wrote it. Taehyung sticks his tongue out at him before climbing the one step to the stage. The singer hands him the microphone, and soon enough, it’s Taehyung’s deep raspy voice sweeping out of the loudspeakers.

It’s a strange impression, watching them. For once, there is no discomfort, no wondering about buried feelings, about resentment. Music is magic. He’s always known this. When he was younger, his grandmother took him with her to a shamanic ritual. He hadn’t paid much attention to the shaman herself, but the musicians had hypnotized him. He had slipped in a sort of trance while his grandmother was holding him by the hand, his heartbeat synching with the beat of the janggu. He was both acutely aware of what was going on around him and incapable of telling where his body ended and where his grandmother’s began. He had felt a strange peace washing over him, as if nothing mattered anymore, beyond this moment in this isolated mountain village. That peace had stuck with him for a long time afterward, and his grandmother had knowingly smiled at him when he had ridden the bus back in a daze.

This was a bit like this, on a smaller scale. Nothing mattered anymore. Not what he did before, not what he would do after. He closes his eyes, empties his mind, and lets the aggressive beats of the music fill him whole. He’s pretty sure his heartbeat grows faster, and he feels sweat on his brow and his back. Slowly, a smile spreads on his face, and when Kihyun clasps their clammy hands together he squeezes back, and they sway for the duration of the song, stumbling when the few people behind them starts jumping around. Soon enough, they’re all meddling together. Yoongi lets himself dissolve against their bodies, and some of that childhood peace stirs in his mind again, overflowing him.

When the set ends, he feels content. Kihyun is leaning against him, warm, and Yoongi slips an arm around his waist as they retreat to the side, waiting for Taehyung to show. He doesn’t make them wait, poking his head out of a small door to their left as the next band is setting up their gear. He spots them leaning against the wall, and his tall frame follows his head out the door.

“He’s changing, he’s gonna meet us outside.”

There it is again, this feeling of apprehension, and Yoongi swallows uneasily. Kihyun has to physically drag him through the small crowd and outside the doors. The cold night air hits him like a punch after the sticky heat of the concert hall, and the fragile peace music brought him evaporates with his sweat. There’s small groups of people scattered around the entrance, smoking and taking swigs out of bottled beers, laughing loudly, commenting on the bands that already played. Yoongi leans against the building and focuses on their discussions, the sound of their laugh, tries to ground himself in the present and not think too much about Hoseok emerging from those same doors, his guitar on his back. Taehyung and Kihyun seem to understand his need for space and talk amongst themselves a few feet away from him. They look bright, happy. Again, Yoongi wonders how and when did they ever become this friendly, and this musing that life really goes on without him outside his hospital walls drifts in his mind once more. He was part of it, tonight, and for a while there, it was perfect.

He pushes himself off the wall, about to join Taehyung and Kihyun, when the door to the venue opens, spilling noise on the pavement. It’s Hoseok, and Yoongi freezes. The man spots Taehyung first, joining the conversation with a smile, still riding that high of a successful show. Yoongi understands then why Taehyung wanted him to meet him there. Nothing bad can happen in this place. It’s where Hoseok makes all his best memories. A sanctuary of his own. Yoongi relaxes a bit then, and gingerly joins the little group, huddled together for warmth. Kihyun almost instinctively makes space for him, his fingers coming to curl around his in a show of support. Hoseok smile wavers slightly when he sees him, but Yoongi understand suddenly that it’s more out of awkwardness than any ill feelings he could harbor towards him. So he tries his best to smile, too.

“It’s been a while, hyung.”

“Yeah, it has.”

Hoseok turns to the others then, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You guys wanna go eat?”

There’s a general assent and they get on their way, Taehyung and Hoseok walking in front, Yoongi and Kihyun behind, their hands still clasp together. Yoongi doesn’t really know where he stands. It is almost too normal, walking with them at night, on a road he took a hundred times before their lives changed. He knows exactly where they’re going, and a slight feeling of nostalgia unfolds at seeing the familiar buildings, until they stop in front of a jjigae restaurant Yoongi could paint his eyes closed. They’ve been here a million times, eating all together after yet another show. Hoseok seems to hesitate before entering, his eyes fleeting to Yoongi for a split second, but it’s gone in an instant and he pushes inside, the other tumbling down the few steps after him.

The ajumma greets Hoseok as if he was her son, and takes a pause when she spots Yoongi, uselessly hiding behind Kihyun. He’s immediately smothered in warm greetings and where-have-you-beens before she ushers them at a small table in the back, where they will be a bit isolated from the other patrons. Hoseok doesn’t even look at the menu, just tells her to bring them the usual, and they all sit down. It’s quiet for a bit, muffled conversations reaching them in a cozy background noise. Kihyun is the first to break the silence, shifting a bit on his chair, glancing at Yoongi.

“It was a great show.”

Hoseok is beaming at the compliment, sheepishly playing with his spoon.

“Thanks. It’s been a little while since we haven’t played, so I was a bit worried, but it went great. Glad you liked it.”

“You played that song. The one… the one I wrote.”

The words tumble out of Yoongi’s mouth before he can stop them, and Hoseok is staring at him, a contemplative expression on his face.

“Yeah. It’s one of the best we have, you know. I never stopped playing it.”

Yoongi is about to answer something when he’s interrupted by the waitress, putting down various banchan on the table. She puts down a few beers, too, service, she says with a wink, before disappearing again towards the kitchens. Taehyung sets himself to pass them around, and Hoseok takes a sip of his before continuing where he left off.

“I still have… I still have the one you didn’t finish, too. It would be nice if you could… take it up again, maybe. We’re thinking of putting out a record soon-ish…”

This is strange, Yoongi thinks. Hoseok is not looking at him when he speaks, staring at his beer, glancing at Taehyung on his right, playing with his spoon again. His words are sincere, he knows, but there’s something unspoken in everything he does. He wonders how much Taehyung told him, and if he’s ever going to broach the topic, ask him about Jin, about where he’s been. He wonders if there’s gonna be tears, like Jimin, or screams, like Taehyung.

His reflections are interrupted by a steamy pot of kimchi jjigae put right in front of him, and then, Hoseok does something different altogether.

“You know, it’s been a bitch without you. The writing and everything. Namjoon-hyung is too busy these days to help me. We had to get another drummer. I mean, we’re doing alright, but it was better when you were here to help.”

As he’s talking, he’s ripping off parts of the huge haemul pajeon sitting in the center of the table and puts a piece of it on Yoongi’s rice. Yoongi stares at the bit of food for a split-second, and lifts his eyes to meet Hoseok’s own.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Hoseok brushes his words aside with a wave of his hand, as if he could erase months of suffering with a flick of his wrist.

“I understand you had the same kind of conversation with Taehyung, and… Well, everything’s a mess, right? But the way I see it, it was better with you around. I’m not angry anymore. I didn’t stay angry long. We did five powerviolence songs and I felt better. They were shitty, by the way. Jungkook put them on youtube for a laugh and it almost ruined my non-existent career.”

“Yeah I… heard them.”

“You what?”

Yoongi shifts, uncomfortable. But there’s Kihyun at his side, and Taehyung is looking at him with a small smile on his lips, and for once, he feels this might be okay.

“I still followed the band after… everything. On youtube and whatnot. They were indeed really shitty.”

He had stared at his computer in complete silence for fifteen minutes after the last note had died in his headphones. It wasn’t a stretch to think it was him Hoseok was talking about it those awful songs that had attacked his ears for some thankfully short six minutes and a half. As shitty as they were, it still hurt to think he could have been the inspiration behind such vindictive pieces.

“You didn’t take them personally, did you? It was just me venting, it didn’t mean anything.”

“I didn’t.”

“You so did. Oh my god you so did. I’m sorry. It was just after… I wasn’t in a good headspace. None of us were.”

Yoongi nods, tries a smile, and Hoseok starts laughing, still sputtering out apologies for his artistic mishap. Yoongi doesn’t know if it’s the beer, the remnants of the show, or Hoseok’s laugh, but he feels pleasantly buzzed, and something opens within him. The conversation is easier after that. Kihyun and Taehyung are tentative at first, but soon enough, things flow easily. It’s two hours later that they exit the restaurant, cheeks reddened by the alcohol and the spicy food, pleasantly full. Hoseok offers to pursue the night at a bar, and that’s when Yoongi’s suspicions that Taehyung didn’t tell him everything are confirmed. He doesn’t know for the hospital, nor for anything that it entails. It’s a relief, somehow. It’s not a conversation Yoongi wants to have now.

Kihyun makes up something about being tired, about needing to get up early, and both Taehyung and Hoseok waits for them to get into a cab, waving them off. It was a weird night, Yoongi thinks. It’s distinctly him and them, now, and he’s not sure there is a way of going back to being a whole. But it seems like they are trying. At least that’s what he says to Kihyun in the backseat of the taxi.

“It doesn’t mean you can’t build something new. Something different. They seemed happy to see you. I thought it would be… more dramatic.”

“Hoseok isn’t one for drama. Plus, he was riding a high. No one wants to get into anything after a show. It was just a courtesy visit. Taehyung chose his moment well.”

Kihyun seems to think it over, nods, and shifts closer to Yoongi.

“It’s going to be okay.”

Yoongi really wants to believe it. He nods.

 

The taxi drops him off just in front of the hospital doors, and Kihyun squeezes his hand one last time before leaving. As agreed, Himchan is there to let him into the psych yard after curfew. He opens the door just enough for Yoongi to slips through and closes it behind him with a sour look on his face.

“One day I’m going to lose my job, I hope you know that.”

“Just tell them I was too cute to resist.”

Himchan pursues his lips in mock-disgust.

“That is too far from the truth, it won’t fly. Maybe I can say your ugliness distracted me.”

They’re walking side by side to Yoongi’s room. Yoongi’s body and mind feel fuzzy. The corridors are dark and empty, which make them seem almost foreign. The hospital at night always felt out of time, almost like a liminal space. Maybe that’s why it was always easy to speak to Himchan, as they almost exclusively met in the evening, when the words weighted differently than during the day.

“How did it go? Was my sacrifice worth it?”

Yoongi slows down the pace almost unconsciously, and Himchan just accommodates him, tucking his hands in his pockets while waiting for Yoongi to set his thoughts in order.

“Weirdly good, I guess? The show was… Like being back in time. I was just there, and nothing mattered apart from the physicality of being there. I don’t know if this makes any sense.”

Himchan just hums, but it seems to be all that is needed to spur Yoongi on.

“Then we all went to eat together and… it was, I don’t know, strange. Too normal. He didn’t talk about Jin. It was just like catching up.”

Himchan seems to think it over, absently pushing his hair back. They’re starting to get too long.

“Maybe he’s allowing you to be your own person. Not just the guy who put Jin in a coma. You have a whole identity beside that. Maybe you should find it again. You know. Just be Yoongi.”

Yoongi spares a glance towards Himchan, and Minhyuk was right, he does look tired. But he’s still there, every day, endlessly positive, and somehow Yoongi feels better just standing next to him.

“Maybe. We will have to talk about it though. I don’t know where Hoseok stands. I don’t know where I stand.”

“To me, it just looks like they’re all trying.”

“To do what?”

“Put the pieces back together?”

Yoongi sees his door, at the end of the hallway. He stops walking and turns to Himchan, who just smiles at him.

“Maybe. We will see, I guess. I’m tired.”

“Who isn’t, to be honest. I should take a vacation.”

Something must shift in Yoongi’s face because Himchan has a brief laugh, before nudging the younger towards his room.

“Don’t worry, I’ll wait until more of your mess is sorted out. Go to bed now, I’m sure Minhyuk stayed up waiting for you.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

 

Himchan was right. As he steps into his room, the first thing he sees is Minhyuk sprawled on his bed, his laptop precariously perched on the edge of the mattress. He perks up when he hears Yoongi enters and raises his head, messy hair all over the place.

“How was it? Are you guys best friends again?”

Yoongi shrugs his jacket off and goes to sit on his own bed. Minhyuk struggles a bit before managing to sit up opposite him.

“It’s gonna take more than me just showing up at one of his show.”

“Did you use to be in the band?”

“No. Well, I helped write and produce, but not much more.”

“It’s gonna blow Jooheon’s mind.”

“What?”

“That you produced actual music.”

Yoongi laughs.

“It’s nothing fancy. They have like, ten fans. There barely ever was more than forty people at any of his shows and most of them were the other bands’ buddies.”

“Still cool. Gonna see him again?”

“I don’t know that yet. I guess. It was a bit weird. What are you looking at?”

Yoongi nods towards the computer screen. It is turned towards him and it’s obvious Minhyuk has been looking at apartments listings.

“Oh. Well, you know I’m getting discharged in a couple of weeks, right? I don’t want to go back to my parents’ place, so…”

“You’re gonna live alone?”

Minhyuk makes a face at him.

“Are you crazy. Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, the others would never let me. Hyunwoo-hyung wanted to move out of the uni dorms, so we’re gonna room together.”

“Sounds like your life is starting up again.”

Yoongi wants to be happy for Minhyuk, but something won’t let him. It’s not only the feeling of being left behind, and it’s not entirely jealousy either. It’s something mixed with sadness, that he can’t quite decipher.

“It will happen for you, too.”

Yoongi nods, trying to put up a smile. He can’t imagine the room without Minhyuk in it. He didn’t quite realize how much he had come to rely on the other being there.

“And we will all still visit you. You’ll pretty much see me all the time anyway, I’ll still come here for therapy and whatnot.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m not worried about that.”

Yoongi lets himself falls back on his bed, arms stretched wide.

“What are you worried about, then?”

“I don’t know. It’s like… Everything is going a little too well, you know. Something terrible is bound to happen.”

He hears Minhyuk laugh, the rustle of his covers. The mattress dips at his side and Minhyuk is beside him then, pillowing his head on Yoongi’s outstretched arm.

“I tell myself that every day. And yet nothing terrible has happened. I think we’re allowed to have good in our lives, you know. Good things happen all the time, why not to us.”

“I guess so. It’s just. It’s been so bad for so long.”

“Yeah, takes a little getting used to.”

“I’m gonna miss you when you’re gone.”

“Oh my god. Min Yoongi, being nice.”

“Shut up.”

He nudges him in the ribs, and Minhyuk laughs, wriggling away from him. It is true he is going to miss him. Their easy camaraderie, his unwavering confidence that everything is going to be just fine. Maybe it will. Maybe it’s okay if not everything turns out great. Maybe that’s just how life is. There is always concerts to be seen, food to be eaten, friends to annoy, books to be read and lovers to be held. There’s life outside the hospital walls, and for once, Yoongi really wants to be a part of it.

 

 

 


	11. Hoseok, again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoseok makes space for Yoongi back in his life, Kihyun and Yoongi have a moment, and Taehyung needs some help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late update is late.  
> I had to look for work, then other things came up, so writing had to take a step back. I hope you guys didn't forget about this yet :'D

The school refectory is loud and too cold, it’s like eating in a railway concourse. Kihyun is hunched over his plate of pork cutlet, too salty and already cold before his tray even hit the table. He’s torn between giving up eating all together to go find a working heater, or forcing down another mouthful of the overcooked meat in an effort to not get hungry in the middle of his next class. He can’t even remember what it is. This semester took him by surprise. Too many things to think about, too many worries. He can’t seem to focus on anything and his grades have taken a dip. Not too severe yet, but he doesn’t miss the look of disappointment in his teachers’ faces when they give him back his assignments. He’s an average student now. He used to be one of the best. He finds that he doesn’t care.

When Minhyuk had tried to die for the second time, studying like a madman had been Kihyun’s way of coping. Filling his head with abstract theories, dates, names, and filling pages and pages of essays he would research until dawn, had allowed him to stop thinking about anything else. It worked like a talisman, too. Each perfect score gave him the assurance that everything was going to be all right, for him, and for everyone else, too. But Minhyuk had gotten brighter, happier, he was standing on his own two legs again. So Kihyun didn’t need to make everything perfect anymore, and so he was disappointing his teachers, and didn’t know what his next class was supposed to be.

That’s where his thoughts are at when a clatter interrupts him, as the chair opposite him is pulled back, a familiar face filling his vision.

“Hey, Yoo Kihyun. Nice meeting you again. I was looking for you.”

Kihyun swallows around a particularly dry mouthful before hesitantly smiling back at Jung Hoseok.

“Hey. Same to you.”

“Who’s your friend?”

Kihyun turns to his left, looking down at Jooheon, who had been peacefully dozing off on his tray, all but forgotten by his elder. Kihyun elbows him and his eyes shoot open, as he not-so-gracefully wipes at a bit of drool at the corner of his lips.

“Lee Jooheon. Jooheon, this is Hoseok. One of Yoongi’s old friends.”

“Oh. Hello. Nice to meet you.”

There’s an unspoken exchange between the two, that Hoseok doesn’t miss. There is something askew in their way of looking at him. They both have a guarded look to them, as if they were on the defensive, and Hoseok’s smile falters slightly.

“I wanted to give you something for Yoongi. You’re seeing him more than I do.”

“I guess so. What is it?”

Hoseok shifts, and produces a small flash drive out of his pocket, that he puts on the edge of Kihyun’s tray.

“That’s Yoongi’s song. The one he never finished, you know, we talked about it last time. I was wondering if you could give it to him. Maybe he could work on it again.”

“Yoongi hyung makes songs?”

Jooheon is perking up more, suddenly very aware of the conversation going on around him. Kihyun sends him a look to make him shut up, but the younger one doesn’t seem to catch it. Hoseok nods, slightly amused.

“This is so cool.”

He grabs the flash drive, turns it between his fingers, and looks at Kihyun.

“He has nothing to work with though, I mean, he doesn’t even have his own computer.”

Kihyun resorts to kick him under the table but it’s already too late, Hoseok’s interest is picked.

“He doesn’t have a computer? Where does he even live? Jimin mentioned that he moved, but…”

Jooheon makes a face, realizing belatedly that Hoseok doesn’t know anything, and Kihyun rolls his eyes at him. He plucks the drive from his fingers and pockets it, turning towards Hoseok and ignoring his question.

“I’ll give it to him, thanks.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Kihyun is already standing, Jooheon looking anxiously between him and Hoseok.

“I didn’t? Oh. Well, I should get to class. I’ll see you later!”

Hoseok is about to say something else, but Kihyun is already grabbing his bag and his tray, turning his back on him. Jooheon scrambles after his friend, awkwardly bowing to Hoseok as he leaves, trying not to spill any of the uneaten food precariously balanced on his tray. He casts a last, apologetic look in Hoseok’s direction before going to whisper in Kihyun’s ear.

“Hyung, that was so not smooth.”

“Shut up and walk faster.”

Hoseok is just watching them run away, shaking his head, a small smile playing on his lips. Both Taehyung and Jimin had been cryptic about Yoongi, and now this. There was something to unearth here, but Yoongi was probably the one supposed to do it.

“What are you still doing here?”

Namjoon’s tall frame falls into the chair previously occupied by Kihyun, his metal trail hitting the table with a clang. He’s swaddled up in a black overcoat and a huge scarf, and somehow this makes Hoseok feel even colder. He pushes his hands in his pockets and nods towards Kihyun and Jooheon, busily putting away their trays at the back of the refectory.

“I was watching a comedy duo.”

Namjoon cranes his neck to see where Hoseok is pointing at, scrunching up his face. They are easy to spot.

“Isn’t that the guy Jimin has been steadily stalking for days?”

“And his sidekick, yeah. They’re friends with Yoongi.”

Namjoon frowns at the mention of Yoongi’s name, before stabbing his chopsticks into his pork cutlet. He should really start packing his own lunches if the food keeps being this revolting.

“You’ve met with him too, didn’t you.”

“Yup. He came to my last show. Unlike some people.”

“I was busy.”

Hoseok has a half-smile, looking on as his friend conscientiously destroys his food. It’s a bit late to eat and the refectory is steadily emptying, they’re the last ones at their table. An animated conversation about an apparently fascinating anthropology class is growing in volume behind them and Hoseok listens for a while, wondering if he should maybe switch one of his boring electives for that one. He decides against it before shifting his attention back to Namjoon.

“Maybe you should meet him too.”

“I don’t want to.”

Hoseok juts out his lower lip, humming in response to Namjoon definite tone. He knows he probably shouldn’t push, but the anthropology students are leaving and there is no more conversations to eavesdrop on.

“Why not?”

Namjoon doesn’t look up when he answers, his knife angrily slicing in his pork cutlet.

“He’s an irresponsible drunk that ruins people’s lives.”

“Harsh.”

“Am I wrong?”

Namjoon slams his knife on the table and Hoseok internally winces. But he started it, so he soldiers on.

“Well, technically no. But, have you think about how it must feel to be in his shoes? He almost kills his best friend, and then loses all the others. It was an accident.”

“You’re one to talk. Remind me who made like five dozen songs about ripping his head off?”

“It’s called character development. That’s my redemption arc. And his, too, maybe.”

Namjoon’s chopsticks still on the way to his mouth, and he looks at his friend. Hoseok can see a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and he knows he’s slowly winning him over. As always. But Namjoon decides to make it difficult, pointing with his chopsticks towards the back of the refectory, where Kihyun and Jooheon still stood not ten minutes earlier.

“He’s got friends.”

“Yeah, and I can’t figure out how he met them. He didn’t show up at uni since forever and those guys aren’t even in the same major or year as him. Plus Taehyung and Jimin are both extremely slippery when you ask details about his current life. And those two jokers basically ran away when I asked where he lives. Don’t you think there’s something weird? There’s definitely something weird. He went home suspiciously early last time.”

“Why do you care?”

Hoseok smiles. Namjoon’s voice is annoyed, but Hoseok knows this look in his eyes. He’s interested. He won.

“Because he was my friend. He was yours, too. Maybe you should think about that. I know you don’t fully hate him. None of us did, not even Taehyung, and he’s the one who actually went ahead and punched him.”

Namjoon doesn’t answer, but he stops stabbing at his food, instead building a trench in the middle of his rice.

“What are you gonna do about it then? Start an inquisition? Stalk his friends?”

“Well, this apparently worked for Jimin. But I could just call him, you know, now that I got his number.”

“Start with texting.”

“Why?”

“Who the heck just calls these days?”

Hoseok nods, and Namjoon destroys his trench with a swipe of his spoon.

 

_I sent you a messenger with a present._

 

Kihyun is standing before him with an awkward smile and a small flash drive in his hand, and Yoongi figures, this must be the messenger, and this must be the present.

“What is it?”

“Your song.”

“My song?”

“The one we talked about last time.”

The usb drives changes hands, and Yoongi is left staring dully at the small rectangle of plastic resting in his palm.

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Work on it I guess?”

“With what?”

“You know, Jooheon pointed out the same problem. And then we had to run away.”

“What?”

Kihyun goes to sit on the edge of Yoongi’s bed, leaning slightly towards the armchair where Yoongi is resting. It’s something he does all the time now, just unconsciously leaning towards Yoongi, wherever they are. He relates his encounter with Hoseok and their smooth escape, and Yoongi is slightly surprised when he finds it just amusing instead of particularly dreadful. It happens a lot, recently, that things are just what they are, and not the forerunners of abysmal consequences he’ll have to deal with somehow. “Give it up for cognitive therapy”, Minhyuk had said, when he had made an off-hand remark about it one day, “shit does work.”

“It’s okay.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t have to be a secret anymore.”

Kihyun looks up at him, speechless for once, and Yoongi tries on a smile. It fits.

“You don’t have to skirt around it. It just makes it heavier if I make it this thing no one is allowed to talk about. You know. It doesn’t help to face anything. It’s about how to move on from there and all that stuff Minhyuk was talking about that one time.”

Kihyun looks stunned for a split second, and then a slow smile creeps back on his lips, and he’s laughing, suddenly.

“Don’t tell Minhyuk he’s your role model or he’ll become insufferable.”

“You mean he can be worse?”

Kihyun playfully slaps him on the arm, and Yoongi starts laughing too, returning the slap, and they’re laughing until Kihyun abruptly sobers up and stares at Yoongi, wide-eyed.

“What?”

“Is it the first time we do that?”

“Do what?”

“You know. Just… laughing. Together.”

“Fuck I hope not. Am I this dramatic?”

“You do spend a lot of time in your own head.”

Kihyun lets himself fall back on the bed, extending his arms, and Yoongi takes his cue, coming to climb next to him and pillowing his head on his arm, the flash drive laying forgotten on the seat of the armchair.

“I spent too much time with just myself.”

Kihyun lazily stretches, turns to his side to face Yoongi and just as lazily kisses him on the lips. He started doing that, too, just kissing him whenever he felt like it, which was pretty often, as Yoongi came to find. Yoongi also finds that he really doesn’t mind, he who was quite wary of physical contact. He wonders if it’s their relationship moving forward, or just them getting used to each other, or both, and then Kihyun kisses him again and the last thing Yoongi finds is that he doesn’t really care, as long as Kihyun keeps doing this.

 

It’s another hospital and another room, where Taehyung hopes are crushed. Because Seokjin finally opened his eyes, but then the doctor spent half an hour explaining to Jin’s family that it was still him being in a coma while Taehyung listened in from the corridor. It’s just what it is, Jin opening his eyes, responding to simple commands, nodding at you, and then falling back asleep for indeterminate amounts of time as if it never happened. Taehyung feels like screaming so he does, in an empty playground he finds on his way home.

Again, he hears the hesitation in the doctor’s voice when Jin’s parents had asked if it was progress, his reticence at giving a definite diagnosis. It is still a misunderstood condition. It is too early to say anything. Only time will tell. Jin had already spent too much time wasting away in that hospital room, his body bone-thin and withered. He looks too close to death and Taehyung is terrified. He sits on the swings, feet digging in the dust, looking at his shady breaths evaporating in the cold air. He needs to talk to someone but he knows how the others will react, too strong, too scared, too much like him.

The phone feels cold against his ears and he’s about to give up when he hears the call finally connecting.

“Hyung, what do I do if Jin doesn’t make it?”

There’s a pause, he hears breathing, and then Yoongi’s voice, sounding too far away for comfort.

“Taehyung, where are you?”

He hangs up, looks at his black screen as if it had called on its own. But then he opens it again, texts an approximate location, and waits.


	12. There is a place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoongi finds himself able to help, and Minhyuk has a proposition to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, sorry for the late update. I should really make longer chapters, I feel like this isn't worth the wait :'D  
> Thank you so much for the really sweet comments ;_;

Taehyung doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching, nor does he react when the swing next to his creaks under someone’s weight. There’s silence, and it’s only when the wind picks up, making him shiver, that he finally glances to his left, to the dark-haired boy sitting next to him. Yoongi looks small in his oversized sweater, his messy hair and thin face making him appear much younger than Taehyung himself. But he seems solid, somehow, a strong presence in the washed-out surroundings of the playground, steadily eaten away by the dimming light of the late afternoon.

“Hey, hyung.”

“Hey yourself. What’s up?”

“Do they just let you go out whenever?”

Yoongi smiles, pushing the swing back a little, lifting his feet off the ground so it can lurch forward unhindered.

“It’s not a prison, you know. I basically committed myself there. As long as I attend everything and am back by curfew the rest is pretty free.”

“That’s cool.”

Taehyung looks at his own hands, at his feet firmly planted in the dirt, at his bony knees peeking out from his ripped jeans. Yoongi swinging softly next to him disturbs the air, sending his hair fluttering in his eyes. He sighs, tilting his head back to look at the sky, slowly dyed orange by the setting sun.

“Jin opened his eyes.”

The swing stills at his side, and he drops his gaze to Yoongi, who’s looking at him with wide eyes.

“You don’t sound… Isn’t that good news?”

Taehyung sits straighter, looks ahead at a bunch of middle-schoolers crossing the park to get home faster. He waits until they disappear, their laughs echoing.

“I thought it would be like in the movies, you know. He opens his eyes and voila, everything is great again. It’s not. He hears you, he reacts, he can even move. And then he falls right back asleep. They can’t even say how long he’s gonna do that. If his brain is damaged or not. If he’s ever going to finally wake up for real.”

“I’m sorry.”

Taehyung turns to Yoongi again, looks at his hands disappearing into his sleeves, knowing full well what they’re hiding.

“I didn’t… call you here to blame you. I just didn’t know who else to talk to.”

Yoongi looks slightly disbelieving and Taehyung shrus, dropping his gaze to his cuffed shoes once again.

“What about the others?”

“They’re… I don’t know. Too involved.”

“And I’m not?”

Taehyung makes a vague gesture, pushes his swing back a little. It’s his turn to move, and Yoongi’s to sit still.

“I don’t know. You feel removed, somehow. Like you’re the only one who’s moving forward. You weren’t there. We kinda all fell out, you know. Or not fell out but… it feels different now. We all have our own ways to deal and sometimes, it’s like we can’t really connect anymore. There’s always something heavy hanging over us. Jin is missing but so are you, and I think we never got over it.”

Yoongi just nods, looking at the ground, feeling all too warm in his hoodie. He should find words to comfort Taehyung, but his mind is blank.

“And, I don’t know. I feel helpless.”

This train of thought is familiar, however. Helpless is too close to hopeless, and soon everything is painted in black and grey, and you can’t get up in the mornings. He shifts, looks at Taehyung who started turning on himself, twisting together the chains of the swing he’s sitting on.

“You know, everything doesn’t have to be terrible all the time. It’s not what you hoped for, but it’s still progress. You should trust Jin. He’s not going to give up easy. And you shouldn’t, either. I gave up. It’s not something you want to try out for yourself.”

Taehyung stills for a bit, letting Yoongi’s words settle in his mind. Then he lets go, lifting his feet, and he’s spinning, nearly kicking Yoongi in the process. Yoongi shrieks, laughing, and scoots to the side until the chains fully disentangle themselves, bringing Taehyung’s spinning to a halt. Taehyung looks at Yoongi, and for once, he looks his age.

“I missed you. Just hanging out like this. Even if it’s to discuss how everything sucks.”

“Hey, Jin woke up. Even if it was just for ten minutes. It’s huge.”

“It was more like twenty.”

There’s a smile playing at the edges of Taehyung’s lips, and Yoongi nudges him in the ribs until he shrieks.

“See. It’s good. You can allow yourself to be happy about it.”

“So they turned you into some sort of yoga master, huh.”

“Yoga? Why yoga?”

They fall into easy chit-chat then, tension slowly leaving Taehyung’s shoulders until he’s almost fully relaxed, kicking up dust as he sends his legs high to swing faster than Yoongi, in a childish contest of who-can-get-the-highest. It’s almost night when they finally decide to part ways, with a promise to hang out again soon, both feeling ditzy from all the swinging, but lighter, too. There might be scars hiding under Yoongi’s too-long sleeves, and too much pent-up emotions reeling in Taehyung’s mind, but for now, it feels okay, just like this. Maybe they can make it, after all, Taehyung thinks when he hails a cab for them to share, both too lazy and lax to brave the subway.

 

There’s another kind of news waiting for Yoongi when he makes it back to his room in the quiet wing of the psych ward. Minhyuk is sitting cross-legged atop his covers, reclining on his pile of pillows, his favorite position. He has an intent look on his face as he stares at his computer, and looks up sharply when Yoongi closes the door behind him.

“How is your friend?”

“Better now.”

“Good.”

Minhyuk stretches as Yoongi crosses the room to his desk, discarding his hoodie as he goes; the room tends to be too warm now that the heating has been turned on. Minhyuk is still staring when he settles in his armchair in just a tee-shirt, and Yoongi cocks an eyebrow at him, watching with a questioning look when Minhyuk shuffles to the edge of his bed and just sits there in silence.

“Well, what it is? Spit it out.”

Minhyuk looks uncomfortable, and it’s a rare enough sight that worry starts unfurling in Yoongi’s mind.

“Nothing major. Just. You know how I’m moving out soon, right.”

Yoongi just nods. He had tried to ignore that fact until the very end, but it kept popping up regardless.

“Well, we finally found a place. Hyunwoo-hyung’s cousin is going abroad for a year and she offered to sub-let him her apartment. It’s a pretty nice place, too. Pretty big. Not too far from uni.”

“That’s cool.”

Minhyuk shifts again, and this time, a small smile makes its way onto his lips.

“What I mean by that is that we’re looking for a third roommate. We can afford the first month all right, but after that it’s probably gonna be a bit tough.”

“Yeah?”

Yoongi shifts, looking all too smug for Minhyuk’s liking.

“Yeah. You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

“Yup.”

“Wanna hurry up and get discharged? We already know we get along well, so you becoming the third roommate kinda goes without saying, right? Unless you had other plans.”

Yoongi bites his lips, trying to swallow the smile he feels blooming in his chest.

“Hyunwoo is okay with that?”

“He remained unfazed in the face of my brilliant idea but then he asked if you’d be okay with taking the blue room cause he doesn’t like the color, and I already got dibs on the big one. So I guess he is.”

“I didn’t have any other plans.”

“So it’s settled. You got a month, buddy.”

Yoongi is taken over by a strange feeling, then. There is hope. Something to look forward to. A plan for a future that’s for him if he wants it. It’s all a tad overwhelming, and it must show on his face, as Minhyuk’s smile dims and he leans forward a little, as if to close the gap between him and Yoongi without having to get off his bed.

“You’re all right?”

Yoongi shakes his head, leans back in his seat.

“Yeah, it’s just… You know, even just three months ago I would never have thought I would be there now. With a future and a guy basically begging me to room with him.”

“I’m not begging. I just pity your sorry-ass.”

“Sure, sure. Don’t you ever feel like all of this is happening to someone else? And you’re just watching it all from somewhere. And then you’re gonna wake up and it’s gonna be the same old thing all over again.”

Minhyuk seems to think it over for a bit, catching his feet in his hands and leaning back until he falls on his bed, still cross-legged. It’s a bit of an awkward position to be in, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Yoongi has to lean over when he speaks again, his words flying towards the ceiling.

“You know, when things started to get better, I felt really unsettled, for the longest time. It took me a while to accept that it was normal, that most people live their lives like this, without any sense of dread tailing them all the time. I kept waiting for someone to congratulate me on beating depression and then announce I had terminal cancer or something. We talked about it, last time, you know. I guess it bears repeating. Sometimes I still think something must be wrong, that it’s a trap somehow, that I’m gonna fall again. Then I wake up and the house isn’t on fire and everything goes fine. Or even if it doesn’t, it’s not that big a deal.”

Minhyuk stretches, shifts so that he can see Yoongi if he cranes his neck a little. The latter is looking at him thoughtfully, head resting on his crossed arms draped over the armrest.

“And even if you fall again… You’re not alone anymore. There’s people willing to help you. We won’t think any less of you if it turns out you’re not doing so well after all.”

“I’d come and hug you but it’s not worth getting up.”

Minhyuk laughs, kicks his feet in the air to give him the momentum he needs to sit up again. He lets his legs fall over the edge of his bed, wipes at his tired eyes.

“I don’t want no stinking hug. Seriously, though. I was joking when I said you only got a month. You can stay here as long as you need, just know there is a place for you when you’re ready to get out.”

There’s a warm feeling spreading in Yoongi’s chest. A warm feeling of belonging, of being accepted for who he is. It had been steadily blooming behind his heart, during those weeks where his walls had been constantly assaulted, and countless efforts were made to bring him back from the edge, from the corner he had backed himself into.

“Thank you. For everything, I mean.”

Minhyuk smiles, getting up to grab his toiletries bag from his messy desk.

“You did most of the work yourself. I’m gonna go brush my teeth. Have you even eaten yet?”

Yoongi shakes his head. He’s not hungry. Dinner time is over anyway.

“Want me to ask Himchan to sneak you something?”

“He’s going to kill me and then you and feed me your body if you tell him I’ve been skipping meals.”

Minhyuk seems conflicted at that statement, and hovers near the door, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“You shouldn’t skip meals, though.”

“Isn’t there any other nurse you could ask?”

“Honestly, I’ve only befriended Himchan.”

“He kinda calls for it, doesn’t he? I still haven’t decided if he’s the best nurse or the worst.”

Minhyuk has a quite undignified snort at that, finally opening the door.

“A bit of both. He sucks at following the rules but he really does his best. I’ll see what I can do about food.”

He slips in the corridor, and as the door shuts behind him Yoongi lets out a sigh, settling more comfortably in the old armchair. His gaze wanders around the small room that he’s come to know as well as the back of his hand. The twin beds, the mountain of pillows Minhyuk “borrowed” from the common room, the spot near the door where the paint started peeling. His almost empty desk, Minhyuk’s messy one, the stacks of books and comics he pushed against the wall. The privacy curtain they barely ever closed. The one window, through which he can see the trees planted at the edge of the hospital’s parking lot, their leaves turned several shades of red, yellow and orange. It feels more like his home than the little room he used to rent ever did.

He wonders if Himchan still has his boxes waiting around in his trunk. He figures that he does, Yoongi having never asked after them once he had retrieved his notebook. Maybe he can set them down somewhere. Soon. In a month, if he can make it. In a blue room, wedged between Minhyuk’s big one and whatever-colored room Hyunwoo preferred. There is a place for him, Minhyuk had said. It had been months, years maybe, that he hadn’t felt like there was. There’s this knot again, in his throat, this strange feeling squeezing his heart. There’s a place for him, and people willing to help, willing to catch him if he was to fall again.

Yoongi suddenly hopes Minhyuk does find something for him to eat, even if it involves a drawn-out lecture in Himchan’s low voice. If he wants to carry his boxes on his own, he should grow healthy, he should stop drowning in too-big hoodies, he should wake up in the mornings and sleep at night. He has a month, and there is a place waiting.


	13. An Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minhyuk moves out.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling soft these days so brace yourself from some cheesy fluff this time around. I am sorry and deeply ashamed. 
> 
> I was really moved by the comments you guys left on the last chapters. It's amazing to see people relate to this on a personal level, as it is also something quite close to me, and I am so happy if it can help even just a micro bit. Let's all make it together :D

Minhyuk moves out on a Tuesday morning. Jooheon and Hyunwoo come in early, to help him box his massive collections of books and comics, Changkyun in tow. The latter appoints himself foreman and takes up residence in the armchair, giving needless directions to his toiling friends. Hyunwoo doesn’t mind, does most of the work himself, while Jooheon stops every five minutes to read this or that, complain about Changkyun, and tease Minhyuk, who’s trying to fit every single article of clothing he owns into one ratty sports bag.

Yoongi looks at all this agitation while perched on his desk, legs dangling over the edge. He doesn’t offer to help and no one seems to expect that he would. He feels strangely removed from the situation, as if it wasn’t really happening right in front of him, but at the same time, an uneasy feeling unfurls in his stomach. Fear of change, sadness, but also a strange giddiness. Minhyuk is moving on, and he’ll be sure to follow. It’s still distressing, to watch Minhyuk and their friends peel away any traces of him from this room they’ve been sharing for months.

Kihyun shows up around noon with a homemade lunch and it takes all of Yoongi’s willpower to not launch himself at him, like a drowning man on a lifeline. Kihyun seems to sense something is wrong, though, as he comes to set himself beside him, hips resting against the edge of the desk, lacing their fingers together and offering him a hesitant smile. Yoongi just shifts closer, resting his head against the other’s shoulder, and watches as Hyunwoo carts the last of the boxes outside the room. Minhyuk’s side is finally empty, walls bare, bed stripped of the mountain of pillows they dutifully returned to the common room.

“Feels like the end of an era. It was a mostly very sucky era, but there’s still good memories here.”

Minhyuk sits on the very edge of his bed, slightly awkward, as if this space already didn’t belong to him anymore. Changkyun shifts in his seat, now leaning on the armrest, one arm dangling over it. He looks soft and boneless, hair falling in his eyes, and Yoongi watches him as if he’s seeing him for the first time.

“Hyung, if you get sappy and starts to go down memory lane I’m leaving and taking Kihyun’s food with me.”

“I’m really sad there’s no more pillows I can throw at you.”

Changkyun grins, and Yoongi adverts his eyes. There’s a pang in his chest, a distinct feeling of loss spreading to his fingertips. Maybe it’s the last time he’ll see Changkyun’s carefree grin, the last time Minhyuk’s playful tone resonates in this room. Maybe they will forget about him once Minhyuk is out for good, once their new life starts. He knows he’s not being rational, that his reasoning doesn’t make sense, but the dread is here anyway, ensnaring his mind in its ugly limbs. He tries to think of the worst possible outcome, the very best one, and the most likely. But the room is empty, and Minhyuk is leaving, and they’ll all be leaving too, eventually. He’s tensing up, and his breathing becomes shallow, as Minhyuk and Changkyun playful bickering starts sounding far away, echoing strangely in his ears.

And then he’s engulfed in darkness as his face is pressed against soft fabric, warm hands coming to rest at the back of his neck, brushing the soft hair there. There’s a familiar laugh, and Kihyun smooth voice soon follows it.

“I can feel you freaking out from over there, loverboy.”

Yoongi breathes in Kihyun’s familiar scent, hugging his waist, stilling there for a bit while the other threads his fingers through his hair in a soothing motion. Then his words finally register, and Yoongi tilts his head back, looking up at Kihyun, who’s expression hovers between worry and amusement.

“Did you just call me loverboy?”

Kihyun tilts his head, adopting a thoughtful expression.

“Would you rather I call you muffin? Or sexy pants? You do have a nice butt.”

Yoongi snorts, and Kihyun brightens instantly, fingers stilling in Yoongi’s hair. He keeps his voice low, only for them to hear.

“Seriously, though, you’re all right?”

Yoongi nods, buries his face in Kihyun’s sweater once more. His warmth is comforting, his presence solid. He’s here, they’re all here. It’s okay.

“I am now. You’re like a service dog. Sniffing out panic attacks and whatnot.”

“Thanks? You should call me puppy then.”

Yoongi laughs again, burrowing a little more against the other.

“What’s with you and pet names suddenly?”

“I feel like our relationship is ready to move on to the next level.”

“The next level being awful pet names?”

“Just watch me call you sweetie pie until you have no choice but break up with me.”

The answer comes muffled from somewhere near Kihyun’s belly.

“I kinda like sweetie pie. Don’t tell anyone, though.”

Kihyun laughs, and starts spewing more horrid pet names, keeping up a nonsensical monologue calling for no answer, essentially drowning out Yoongi’s thoughts like a comforting white noise. Yoongi listens, breathing evening out, focusing entirely on Kihyun’s presence around him. It almost feels ridiculous, now, that groundless panic that can so easily shatter him.

It’s the sound of the door opening and closing again that finally makes Yoongi look up from his hiding spot in Kihyun’s shirt. Hyunwoo is back in the room, having crammed the last of Minhyuk’s boxes in his tiny car. Jooheon perks up from his spot on the floor, where he’s sitting at Changkyun’s feet.

“Can we finally eat?”

“Sure, you guys must be famished after helping me carry all these boxes.”

“Just imagine I answered something equally snarky, all right? I actually am too famished to think of anything.”

Hyunwoo snorts, going to unpack what Kihyun’s brought. They all stand up, gathering over the small table pushed against the wall. There’s not enough chairs for everyone, but they don’t mind, electing to sit together on the floor instead. Hyunwoo has a tired old man’s grunt as he does, prompting Jooheon to sass him again, and soon enough, insignificant chatter and witty rebuttals are filling the room. Yoongi is sitting next to Jooheon, Kihyun pressed against his other side. Hyunwoo is in front of him, constantly elbowed by Minhyuk’s twitchy limbs, but he doesn’t seem to mind, engaged as he is in an animated discussion about Jooheon’s propensity to laziness. Changkyun just chews contentedly in between them, and he smiles when he catches Yoongi staring. This time, there’s only warmth spreading in Yoongi’s chest, and he smiles back when Changkyun rolls his eyes at Jooheon’s protests.

There it is again, he thinks, this feeling of belonging, of being an essential part of a whole. He had it once, and he wrecked it, but the pieces are still there, and maybe he’ll be able to fit them together again, as he had been able to carve a place for himself in these people’s hearts and minds.

“You look all mushy, what are you thinking about, _sweetie pie_?”

There’s a cough somewhere, and Yoongi looks sharply at Jooheon, who’s strangling himself with half-eaten kimbap.

“Did you just call him sweetie pie?”

“Did I?”

Kihyun stares innocently, and Yoongi would scowl, but he knows he’s looking like a rodent, with his cheeks full of food. That would spoil the effect, so he has to settle on grumbling.

“You can’t trust no one in this dump.”

Hyunwoo cheers to him with his kimbap.

“Amen to that, sweetie pie.”

“You shut up, old man.”

There’s more bickering after that, familiar, and too soon, it’s time for everyone to leave. Minhyuk lingers in his empty side of the room, after they all file out, looking hesitantly back at Yoongi, the only one to stay.

“I guess this is it.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

Minhyuk chews on his bottom lip, before crossing the room and engulfing Yoongi in a tight hug.

“Don’t forget what I said, okay? You can move in with us when you’re ready. And text me, too. I want to know how your new roommate isn’t as great as I am.”

Yoongi nods against Minhyuk’s shoulder, and the latter release him, still holding him at arms-length, peering intently into his face.

“Don’t think we’ll forget about you or whatever it is that made you freak out, okay?”

“You saw that?”

“Of course I did, you guys aren’t as sneaky as you think you are.”

Yoongi smiles, sheepish, slightly embarrassed to be read that easily. He guesses that’s what happens when you share your space with someone for long enough.

“You should leave before this gets too sappy for us both to handle.”

“You got it, sweetie pie. I’ll miss you.”

There’s one last hug, one last goodbye, and Minhyuk is gone, the door closing softly behind him. Yoongi sighs, looking at the now empty side of the room. It’s the first time he sees the desk not covered in clutter, the bed with only one sad pillow, the armchair not disappearing under haphazardly thrown clothes. He doesn’t know how long he stares at the empty side in the closet, the empty walls, but it’s enough for the hollowness of his room to seep into his being, and he sits on his bed, not sure of what to do with himself anymore. The silence is heavy, without Minhyuk chatter and generally noisy way of being. He’s almost thankful when a sharp knock at the door makes him jump and he has to clear his throat before inviting the visitor to enter. It’s Himchan, poking his head into the room, before opening the door wider to allow his body to follow.

“How’s it going, sweetie pie?”

Yoongi deadpans, looking at him with the best dead stare he can muster.

“Not you too?”

“Changkyun told me on his way out that I ought to call you like this as of now.”

“I hate all of them.”

Himchan grins, closing the door behind him and resting against it.

“I just came to see how forlorn you really were, and tell you to dry your tears. Your new roommate will be here in a couple of hours.”

Yoongi shifts, slightly stunned.

“Already?”

“No time to grieve, buddy.”

“What am I supposed to say to him?”

“Hello would be a good start. You guys don’t have to be the best of friends, just be civil.”

Yoongi glances at Minhyuk’s side of the room, and tries to imagine someone else, a stranger, moving into this space. It doesn’t feel right, but Yoongi guesses he can’t really afford to be childish about it.

“What’s his name?”

“Moon Jongup.”

“What did he do?”

“Robbed a bank.”

“Himchan.”

“You can ask him the details. He’s spacey, though. And not even a little bit. It’s kinda funny, in a way.”

“Should you really mock your patients?”

“I take my fun where I can find it. You’ve no idea what I said behind your back.”

Yoongi levels the nurse with a hard stare and the man just smiles back innocently, peeling himself off the door.

“Anyway, I just came to give you a heads up, because I’m nice like that. The general services are gonna come clean and whatnot.”

He nods, and Himchan gives him an actual thumbs up before leaving. Yoongi sighs, stares again at the glaring emptiness opposite him. Then he gets up, closes the privacy curtain separating the two sides, and fishes his headphones out of his desk drawer.

 

He emerges after the room has been cleaned up and refitted, when there’s soft knocking at his door, and it’s Himchan again, followed by a boy that looks too young to be here. He has an absent smile on his face when Yoongi greets him, and goes to set his belongings on the desk without much ado. Himchan waggles his eyebrows at Yoongi, who just rolls his eyes, and goes back to sit at his own desk when the nurse leaves after making sure the boy has everything he needs.

Yoongi waits for him to settle before turning around on his chair. He tries to channel Minhyuk, but he has neither his easy friendship nor his brazen confidence, and the conversation he initiates is stunted and awkward. Jongup, since that’s his name, doesn’t seem to mind. Spacey is too light a word to describe the faraway look in his eyes, the gentle but absent smiles he bestows on Yoongi, and his overall lack of interest in anything. Yoongi already misses Minhyuk more than he would care to admit, and the few hours they have before going to sleep pass by at an excruciating pace, in almost complete silence. Yoongi doesn’t know what to do with this shell of a boy, and he almost jumps out of his skin when his phone starts vibrating loudly on his desk, relishing at the opportunity to have a good excuse to leave the room.

It’s Kihyun, and he sounds overly enthusiastic.

“How’s it going?”

“I got a new roommate.”  

“Already? How is he?”

“A bit like a seashell.”

“A seashell?”

“You know. Pretty to look at but empty inside.”

Kihyun guffaws loudly and Kihyun hears another laughter in the background, and music, noises of a party going on.

“Harsh. Pretty though? Should I feel threatened?”

“Have you heard the part where I said he’s empty inside?”

“Well, I don’t know how you like them. Maybe you like it when it echoes.”

“Echoes? What are you even talking about? Plus you do know how I like them. I like you.”

“You like me? How embarrassing. I like you too.”

“Did you drink?”

“What a baseless accusation. Can’t I tell my boyfriend I love him without being accused of being drunk?”

“So you love me now? Also you’re so clearly drunk.”

There’s someone shrieking and Yoongi moves the phone away from his ear until it dies down and Kihyun’s voice comes back on.

“Sorry, that was Jooheon loosing at something. We’re having a house warming party. I wish you were here. I might be a little drunk. And a little in love with you, yeah. I shouldn’t tell you that over the phone.”

“It’s not like I didn’t suspect it.”

“Oh so we’re way confident now, are we?”

“Kihyun.”

“Yoongi. Sweetie pie. Loverboy.”

There’s a breathy laugh, and then Kihyun’s voice again, talking too close to the receptor.

“Hurry up and come live here. That place is great. The beds are huge.”

“Are you waggling your eyebrows? I can feel your greasiness through the phone. It’s gross.”

“I totally am. I’m gonna go. Jooheon needs supervising from someone that isn’t Changkyun. Don’t throw seashell back at sea yet. You were pretty shitty company at first, too.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“It’s okay, we all liked it. You’re great. I’ll see you. Swee-”

The line goes dead, on what Yoongi is pretty sure is Kihyun calling him sweetie pie again, and all that is left for him to do is go back to his room, where Jongup is probably staring out into space. It’s not a very enticing prospect, and Yoongi lingers in the hallway, thinking that yeah, he really needs to move out, and soon.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna keep casting B.A.P members as background characters because why the heck not. Jongup's the last one though, and we won't see much of him, unless I change my mind.


	14. Something like hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoseok pays a visits, and unknowingly sets things in motion.

“So that’s where you’ve been?”

It’s strange seeing him there, sitting cross-legged in his ratty armchair. Yoongi thinks he might be dreaming, but there’s no denying the truth of Hoseok’s presence, his curious stare roaming around the room, long fingers tapping an erratic rhythm on his knee.

“It’s pretty cozy for a hospital room.”

“…thanks?”

Hoseok laughs, and his stare finally settles on Yoongi. 

“This is weird, right?”

Yoongi shrugs, trying to casually lay back on his desk chair, kicking his leg up on the bed. He’s too tense, though, it shows in the hard lines of his face and the slope of his shoulders.

“I was surprised when Kihyun actually answered when I asked, instead of just running away as usual.”

“I told him it was okay to tell.”

Hoseok hums, staring intently at Yoongi’s face, who’s doing all he can to avoid looking back. Hoseok hadn’t really known what to answer, when he had cornered Kihyun once again, asking after Yoongi, and the man had actually relented. He had asked Yoongi for a meeting then, and if the answer had been long to come, it was positive nonetheless.

So here he was, sitting on an armchair that had seen better days, looking at the place where Yoongi’s life had been unfolding for the past months, sheltered and hidden.

“What is he for you?”

“Who?”

“Kihyun. You guys are close, right? I could see it last time.”

There’s a slight rosy tint raising on Yoongi’s cheeks, and it makes him looks so much younger, so much more vulnerable, there’s a sudden ache in Hoseok’s chest that he can’t quite explain.

“We’re dating. He used to hang out a lot here, with my previous roommate. That’s how we met.”

Yoongi’s wringing his hands, and when Hoseok doesn’t say anything he steals a glance at him, wary, so Hoseok feels compelled to smile. It doesn’t seem to appease him, though.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“It’s just… You know. Everything’s like this and I go ahead and...”

“Dude. You don’t have to play martyr all your life. You’ve been miserable enough as it is. It’s all good, I’m happy for you.”

Hoseok’s smile widen, and Yoongi gives him one of his own, small and hesitant. But there’s a welcome shift in the atmosphere then, the air feeling lighter, and Yoongi lets out a sigh, finally relaxing. He’s about to say something when there’s noise at the door, and they both turn when it opens.

Jongup peeks inside, his face bursts into flames, and he disappears again while mumbling an apology. Hoseok raises an eyebrow at Yoongi, who shrugs.

“My new roommate. A barrel of laughs.”

“I can see that. Did I scare him? Am I even allowed to be here, by the way?”

“It’s all good. He’s just… I don’t know. We still haven’t exchanged more than like, ten words.”

“So you finally found someone that’s more awkward than you. Congrats!”

Yoongi chucks a pen at him, Hoseok laughs, and suddenly it’s like the distance never happened between them, the banter easy, familiarity settling over the stunted awkwardness of their first meeting. Something swells in Yoongi’s chest. He missed this. He missed him.

It’s a bit later, when laughter dies down and a soft lull falls over them, that Hoseok turns serious again. He’s boneless in the armchair, long limbs spilling everywhere, head tilted back to look up at the white ceiling. Yoongi migrated from the desk chair to the bed some time before and he can hear him breathing softly by his side, stifling one or two yawns. The light is slowly declining, and it will be time to go, soon. Not yet, though, and Hoseok feels pleasantly warm and content, eyes drifting to the window where he can see the tall trees gently swaying outside, to Yoongi’s mop of dark hair, sprawling on the bed.

“Hey.”

“Mh?”

“Did you listen to the song I gave you?”

“Not yet. I don’t have a computer to work on it anyway.”

Hoseok makes a thinking sound. He tries to sit up, decides it will take too much efforts, and gives up right away, falling back into the chair.

“I could ask Namjoon to let you use his stuff.”

“What?”

There’s a shift at his side and he abandons the ceiling to look down at Yoongi, who straightened up on his elbow. He has a serious case of bed hair and Hoseok tries not to laugh, fails, laughs again when Yoongi looks offended.

“Namjoon. You know. Tall guy. Too smart for his own good.”

“I know who Namjoon is, thanks. He’ll never lend me his stuff.”

“He’s been working part-time at a studio for some time now. He bought a shit ton of new, fancy equipment.”

“Why don’t you ask him to work on the song then?”

“Because… Wait.”

Hoseok shifts, bringing his sprawling limbs closer to himself, sitting up so he can look at Yoongi without breaking his neck.

“Because you wrote that damn song. It’s yours. It wouldn’t be as good if someone else finished it.”

Yoongi sits up, too, cross-legged on his covers. He makes a face at Hoseok, who swats him on the knee.

“Come on. I need it. I’m sending a demo to some labels next month and I want it to be on it.”

Yoongi considers him for a second, and Hoseok just watches him intently, waiting out the examination. Yoongi relents, leaning back on his hands.

“You’re really serious about this.”

“Why wouldn’t I. I know I’ve got something good going on, and if someone would stop moping and get off their ass to finish that damn song it could become something great.”

Yoongi laughs, letting himself fall back on the bed.

“I don’t mop. I just don’t see how Namjoon is gonna ever be okay with that. With me. In his space.”

“Leave that to me, brother. He’s not even mad anymore, I swear. He’s just a man of principle.”

Yoongi strains to look at Hoseok, and there’s this glint in his eyes he knows all too well.

“I’m winning him over. Plus it’s for me he’d be doing this, not for you. And he can’t resist me.”

“I see you already thought of everything.”

“Well, one of us has too.”

Yoongi chuckles, and it’s warm and effortless. Hoseok was always the best of them. Making things easy. Bringing you back, or pushing you forward, as needed. Always there. He rolls on his side, head propped up on his hand.

“So you’re going to be a rock star?”

“And you could be my sexy producer if you finished your damn degree. You should come back to uni, finally graduate.”

Yoongi cannot say he hadn’t thought of it. Things had noticeably been better. He was stronger, now. He had support. He was brought back from the edge, and maybe it was time. But as much as he wants it, going back out into the world, he’s terrified. Leaving the safety of these white walls for the unknown, where things are rarely forgotten and never freely given, feels too much like a losing bet.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“When will you get out?”

“I don’t know, either. They didn’t tell me, and I haven’t asked. I think they’re waiting for it to come from me.”

“Well, maybe you should ask.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Silence engulfs them then, Yoongi seemingly mulling over Hoseok’s words, and the latter does nothing to initiate conversation again. Rather, he sinks deeper into his seat with a content sigh, enjoying the last serene moments of the afternoon before he has to go and drown himself into transit in order to get home.

It’s not five minutes afterwards that the door opens again on a sheepish Jongup, who nods shyly towards them before silently trudging to his desk. Hoseok takes this as his cue to leave, and once he’s gone, the silence in the room becomes too heavy for Yoongi to bear. He grabs a towel, mumbles something about taking a shower, and it’s only when he reaches the bathroom that he realizes he forgot his toiletries.  

 

Hoseok doesn’t waste any time in hunting down Namjoon, dutifully attaching himself to his side after the dismissal of their first shared class the next morning.

“Namjoon, come on.”

“I said no.”

“Do you say no cause you don’t like people touching your stuff, or cause you don’t like Yoongi touching your stuff?”

Namjoon stops walking when he realizes shaking off Hoseok might involve breaking into a sprint, and that’s too much of an effort to make that early in the morning. So he faces him instead, pushing him into an empty seminar room when he realizes having that conversation in the hallway might not be the better option.

“Honestly, a bit of both.”

“Oh, come on. You’d be doing it for me, you don’t even have to talk to him if you don’t want to. He just needs access to a computer and music software.”

Namjoon narrows his eyes at that, and Hoseok tries his best to look innocent.

“Why can’t he just use the university stuff?”

“Well for one he’s not a student. Come on, I really want that song to be done. I’ll annoy you until you cave, you know I will.

“I could finish it for you.”

Hoseok scrunches up his face, tries to find a way of saying that without offending Namjoon.

“It’s his, though. He had the vision for it. I want him to finish it. It’s for my mixtape. You know how hard I’m working on this.”

Namjoon does know. Throwing himself into his music had been Hoseok’s way of dealing with everything. And now that something positive was finally coming out of it, he knows too that he won’t be able to refuse him, no matter how much the idea irks him. He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose.

“All right. He can come on Wednesday, I have a day off.”

Hoseok does an awkward shuffle that might be a victory dance and Namjoon just cuffs him lightly over the head. They stay there, perched atop the table nearest the door, exchanging meaningless chit-chat, until an assistant lecturer ushers them out with an annoyed huff. Namjoon makes a point of not asking about Yoongi, and Hoseok doesn’t offer anything. Wednesday will come soon enough.

 

_Got you a date on wednesday ;)_

Yoongi stares at the text for a full minute before setting his phone down on his desk, rearranging it to be perfectly parallel to his notebook’s spine. So Hoseok really wasn’t playing around. Wednesday. He grabs the edge of the desk, pushing himself away on the rolling chair, but lets his fingers linger on for a while, before finally standing. He sees Jongup jump from the corner of his eye, and winces at the boy as a form of apology, but the latter has already buried his head in the same book he has been reading since he got here. Yoongi starts to suspect he’s not actually reading anything, but is just trying to give himself some form of countenance.

He goes outside, softly closing the door behind him to spare Jongup another heart attack, and wanders the corridors for a bit, not really sure what is it he’s looking for. He feels restless, his skin too tight. He finally understands what he’s looking for when he sees a familiar figure slip out of another room, similar to his own. He calls out to him and Himchan turns around, surprise on his features.

“You look happy to see me, what happened?”

“Nothing happened. Where are you going?”

“On a break, why?”

“Can I come?”

Himchan nods, and soon they find themselves outside the hospital, on a bench in the small courtyard that separates the building from the road. Himchan has a cigarette hanging from his lips, and Yoongi offers him a judgmental stare. Himchan shrugs, takes a drag.

“My roommate cut me off his chocolate.”

“Can’t you buy your own?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Yeah, obviously.”

Himchan makes a face, puffs out smoke from his nose.

“So, what’s the big deal?”

“Nothing’s the big deal.”

The nurse hums, unconvinced, his gaze following the people coming in and out of the hospital, the smoke of his cigarette swirling in the crisp morning air. Yoongi shivers, zips up his jacket and brings his hood up. Himchan doesn’t seem cold, despite only wearing his scrubs in the autumn weather that’s slowly slipping into winter. The tall trees have already lost most of their leaves, and the courtyard would look grim if it wasn’t for the splotches of red and orange still holding up here and there.

“I thought, maybe I should return to university. I only have one semester left to graduate.”

“What were you studying?”

“Music.”

“Music what?”

“Production, mostly.”

“Nice. I studied traditional music.”

Yoongi stares at Himchan for a while, looking pointedly at his scrubs.

“Yeah, I know. I changed path along the way.”

“Why?”

Himchan shrugs, blows smoke up into the air.

“It just wasn’t realistic. I was pretty good, but not enough to make a living off it, I guess.”

“You could have taught.”

“Yeah, I could have.”

“Do you regret anything?”

“No. I don’t know.”

Himchan’s gaze falls to his shoes, and then he’s considering his cigarette, putting it out against the underside of the bench before deftly flicking it into the litter bin a short distance away. Then he leans back, shrugs, stretching his arms over his head, looking straight ahead. There’s a noisy bird screaming from somewhere, and he can’t quite pinpoint the direction.

“Come on Yoongi, out with it.”

Yoongi shifts at his sigh, there’s a sigh, a slight cough, and soon he’s finally speaking.

“I was just. Minhyuk left, you know, and he told me I could come live with him and Hyunwoo, they’re looking for a roommate. I could go to university again after Christmas. I have this friend who wants me to finish a song for him, and it could be my final project. Things with Kihyun are good, too, and… and it’s getting better with the others.”

Himchan hums, starts playing with the lighter he took out of his pocket.

“And how do you feel about that?”

“I’m not sure. A bit weird. It’s going a bit too well, you know. But at the same time… I guess I haven’t felt this light in a long time. It feels like a beginning. I’m scared, though.”

“Of what?”

“What if I go out there, and it turns out to be too hard.”

Himchan leans forward on his knees, clicking the cap of the metallic zippo between his fingers.

“You won’t be going alone. If you feel like it’s time, that you want to get discharged, you should take it up with Ms. Lee. She’ll tell you what she thinks, and if she agrees, well… She’ll design a program for you. We’re not going to just drop you out there. You’ll still have to come to therapy, amongst other things. It’s a long process, you know. But if you feel like it’s the time to start moving on, then we will help you.”

Yoongi nods. He feels strangely calm. Slightly eager, even. Himchan makes it sounds so simple, and he really wants it to be this way. A simple, easy transition back to life, out from the limbo he’s been wandering in since he woke up in that white room, with strange machinery gently biping at his side. He realizes suddenly how far he’s come in so short a time, when he didn’t see any way out of the suffering he was in. 

“Thanks. I will talk to her.”

“It’s okay to be scared, all right? It’s not gonna be easy. But you’ve come that far, so you can do it, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I can.”

“Good. Now let’s go back in before I freeze my ass off.”

Himchan shoves his hands back into his scrubs and steps quickly towards the hospital, Yoongi trudging after him, sparing one last glance at the falling leaves. He’s leaving his burdens behind, too. He’s not sure what will spring in their place yet, but there’s fire in his belly and yeah, he’s ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I guess we're slowly inching towards the end. It will be the longest thing I ever finishes :'D let's all hope I don't mess up too much before that.


	15. Namjoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoongi visits Namjoon to follow-up on Hoseok's request, and then something big happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those who are still reading this, I hope this chapter doesn't let you down :D I've been in a sort of slump so I had a bit of a hard time getting it out.  
> Also I am seriously obsessed with giving cats to any and all of my characters lately, sue me.

Namjoon has done all right for himself, that much is clear when Yoongi first steps into his apartment. It’s small, but neat and tidy, with minimalist furniture that would seem cold if Namjoon hadn’t covered them with everything he loves, from books to CDs to action figures. There’s a grey cat curled up on the sofa-bed, who raises its head and looks at him curiously when Yoongi steps into the living room.

What is also clear is the reluctance with which Namjoon accepted Hoseok’s request. He keeps things to the bare minimum. Doesn’t offer Yoongi anything, speaks in short sentences, straight to the point. He pilots Yoongi to the bedroom that he turned into a music studio over the two years it took him to gather the needed equipment and sound proof it, staying at the door while Yoongi steps in.

“This is fancy stuff.”

“Yeah, so be careful.”

“You know me. I’m careful as all hell.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, doesn’t answer. _I did know you_ , he thinks. Not anymore, though, and there’s a small annoyance at the nagging curiosity that pushes questions to his lips; questions he won’t ask, questions he buries under resentment and righteousness. But Yoongi feels it. The lingering stares, the words Namjoon bites back when they might stray out of the boundaries he set for himself. A man of principle with a badly concealed curiosity for the friend he wrote out of his life. Yoongi doesn’t try anything. He listens, nods, sits when he’s told to, although he can’t help but wonder how much Namjoon knows about him. How much Hoseok let transpired.

“I’m gonna leave you do your thing, then.”

Yoongi nods, but Namjoon doesn’t leave. He hovers near the door, staring at Yoongi, who’s looking ridiculously small in the huge desk chair acquired on a whim, with his oversized hoodie and the scarf he still hasn’t shed, although it’s almost too warm in the apartment. Namjoon can’t shake the nostalgic feeling of familiarity that blooms in seeing Yoongi there, swinging the desk chair left and right like he belongs. It’s too reminiscent of countless nights spent together poring over yet another terrible song from Hoseok’s band, or their own hopeful projects, nights which would inevitably end with them sprawled on the floor in between beer cans, laughing, talking about a future that never was, eventually crushed in a car amidst vapors of too much soju. His heart lurches, and there’s an ache somewhere between his ribs. Namjoon clicks his tongue annoyingly; he’s done grieving over this. Over Jin and Yoongi. Over what could have been. He made a decision, and he will stick to it.

So he leaves, closing the door over a last advice of “don’t break anything”, and goes to sit down beside his cat on the couch, absentmindedly patting it on the head. He got the animal just after the accident, telling himself it had nothing to do with the gaping hole left in his chest. He stays there a long time, the cat relishing in the sudden attention from his master. He stays there until the light starts to dim outside, the evening painting elongated shadows over his carefully chosen furniture, over this space he painstakingly made his own. A refuge that he now opened to the one guilty of everything. But he finds that there is no more anger to warm him, that the fury and rancor have gave way to an overwhelming weariness, seated deep within himself.

Namjoon’s cold, suddenly, as the sunshine stopped spilling through his windows. He gets up to turn up the heating, his cat jumping off the sofa to pad softly after him, stopping in front of the studio’s closed door to scratch lightly at it, looking back at his master impatiently. Namjoon considers the door for a bit. It’s eerily silent, and he tells himself he just needs to check up on the equipment when he pushes it open.

Inside, Yoongi is slumped over the desk, head buried in his arms. It is such a familiar sight that Namjoon almost unconsciously lurches forward, and words spill out before he can swallow them.

“Something’s wrong?”

“A lot of somethings. The bassline is out of whack. And I can’t get the balance right. And the bridge needs redoing. And…”

Without even looking up, Yoongi presses the playback button, and the song blares out over the speakers. And… yes, it is a bit of a mess. Yoongi’s arm falls limp over the armchair, fingers dangling a few feet from the floor, the picture of despair. Namjoon’s cat pushes past and goes to headbutt Yoongi’s hand, until the later relents and scratches the animal behind the ears, eliciting a content mewl.

Namjoon knows what’s wrong with the bassline. He could probably help on that balance, too. The bridge just needs some tweaking. And… and he grabs a spare stool and goes to sit beside Yoongi, elbowing him slightly, telling him to move over. Yoongi does, sits up straight, shooting Namjoon a questioning look. But he’s distracted by the cat jumping into his lap, curling up there as if he owns the place. He pats the animal while Namjoon tweaks this and that, shows him new features on the software he uses, makes informed suggestions, and suddenly they fall into a comfortable rhythm, both focused and determined.

Yoongi finally sheds his scarf, his face relaxing into easy smiles and exasperated frowns, and Namjoon realizes how tense the other had been.  They stay at it for hours, cooped up in the little studio. They don’t talk much, but the studious atmosphere is warm and familiar. They always worked well together, maybe more so than with any of the others.  Soon enough, Namjoon finds himself leaning a bit too much in Yoongi’s space, smiling a bit too much, teasing his skills, and they bicker over who’s right, what sounds better, Yoongi claiming vision while Namjoon boasts technical skills. It’s fun and light-hearted, as if that ugly parenthesis in their life had never happened. There’s a weight like a boulder lifting off Namjoon’s chest.

It shouldn’t be this easy, though, he thinks. Yoongi shouldn’t be able to waltz back like this, and fit so perfectly in the hole he left behind. There’s an uneasy feeling slowly creeping back, and his skin feels too tight somehow, the room too small, Yoongi too close, and everything is wrong. He needs to breathe. So he stands up abruptly, startling both Yoongi and the cat in his lap, mumbling something under his breath as he goes for the door. There’s a knot in his throat telling him he might not be ready for forgiveness.

 

The night falls early these days, and when Namjoon opens the living room’s window he’s greeted by the bright lights of the neon signs stuck to the building opposing his. Blue and pink lights that flicker in the relative darkness of the early evening, printing shapes on his retinas when he closes his eyes after staring for too long. The air is crisp, cold against his skin. He doesn’t mind. It whips his thoughts in order, gives a bit more substance to these jumbled feelings stirred by Yoongi’s reappearance.

It’s a good while before Namjoon hears soft steps behind him, and when he turns around, the man himself is standing a few feet away, hugging the cat to his chest. He looks hesitant, but as there’s no animosity in Namjoon’s face, he takes another step forward and opens his mouth to speak.

“Is everything all right?”

Namjoon drops his eyes to the cat in Yoongi’s arms, who’s looking all around the room from his new vantage point.

“It’s just… weird, seeing you again. Working with you as if nothing happened.”

A shadow crosses Yoongi’s face, and Namjoon winces. He needs to make himself understood, but for once in his life, he’s not sure of his words.

“I don’t… It’s just strange. I’m not angry anymore. I just don’t know if I want you in my life again. After all this. It seems too easy, somehow. Like I’m betraying something. Like this isn’t the right thing to do.”

Yoongi nods as if he understands, when Namjoon isn’t sure he does himself. There’s too much unspoken feelings, that he left to fester for too long, and he’s not sure how to get them out; not sure if he can even get them out anymore. Yoongi speaks again, soft and careful.

“I had… a hard time accepting myself again after what happened. I didn’t want me in my own life either, if that makes any sense. I don’t know what Hoseok or the others told you, but I’m still working on it. So I get it. It’s okay.”

Namjoon looks at him, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Really looks at him. Yoongi’s thinner than he remembers, more angular. There’s a weariness in his eyes that has nothing to do with lack of sleep. But there’s a clear confidence, too, a deep understanding that Yoongi didn’t use to have. And suddenly he looks wise beyond his years, and a slow smile creeps back on Namjoon’s lips.

“What is this? What happened to you?”

“Do I look like a Yoga master?”

“Yoga? What?”

“I don’t know, Taehyung told me that once.”

Namjoon laughs a tired laugh, but the light is back in his eyes, and when he looks at Yoongi again, some of his uneasiness subsides.

“I’ll never understand that kid.”

Yoongi shrugs, puts down the cat who was starting to struggle in his arms. He stays crouched on the floor next to it, dangling the drawstring of his hoodie in front of its eyes until the animal starts swatting at it with a quick paw.

“Who does, honestly.”

“Hoseok told me you live at the hospital.”

“Yeah, I do. I’m hoping to get out soon, though.”

 “He didn’t tell me why, though. I didn’t ask.”

Yoongi stops playing with the cat, starts scratching it behind the ears instead. He buries his hands in its soft fur, letting the warmth of the animal seeps through his fingers, grounding him.

“Well. It was too hard, getting through the days. And, you know how I got, sometimes, right? It got ten time worse, after the accident. To the point I couldn’t really bear it, so I just… Tried to end it.”

Namjoon doesn’t say anything at first, just sits on the floor next to Yoongi and the cat, who rolls over to give access to his belly. He pets the animal slowly, until it cages his wrist in its front paws and pushes against it with its hind legs. Namjoon cannot say he didn’t expect something like this to have happened, when Hoseok told him Yoongi was in a psychiatric unit. It’s another matter entirely to be confronted with the reality of it, while Yoongi is crouching inches away from him.

“I don’t… really know what to say. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m doing better now. In a weird way it wasn’t the worst thing that happened to me.”

Namjoon looks at Yoongi with raised eyebrows and the latter has an awkward smile as he shifts, getting into a slightly more comfortable position on the floor.

“You know what I mean.”

“Not really?”

There’s a vague hand gesture, that catches the cat’s attention, and soon Yoongi is dangling his fingers in front of the animal, who starts mounting an attack.

“I had no choice but to get help. Like real, professional help. And I met… important people, too. I’m doing better than I was even before anything happened. It’s not been… It’s not been all bad. I went at it really wrong, but…”

“I see.”

The cat jumps and Yoongi whips his hand back at the last second, teasing the animal by poking him gently in its sides. 

“They told me that I needed to allow myself to get better, but I think that’s true for all of us. We’ve been kinda stuck. Jimin said he felt like not only Jin but everyone else was in a coma, too, and I kinda get it.”

Yoongi doesn’t look at Namjoon when he speaks, entirely focused on the cat he’s playing with, dark hair falling into his eyes. Namjoon sighs softly, rubbing at his eyes. He’s tired.

“I guess that’s… not wrong. Shit, we’re really not good at dealing with things.”

“Well, as the master of dealing with things the wrong way, I can indeed recognize true talent.”

Namjoon smirks, pats his cat’s head, who’s lazily stretching across the floor, suddenly all tapped out.

“You know, I got that cat just after the incident.”

“They’re good therapy animals, that’s a pretty good move.”

“I’ve been trying to convince myself that’s not why I got it, but thanks I guess.”

Yoongi laughs, leans back on his hands. He yawns. It’s getting late and it will probably be over curfew anytime now, but he can’t bring himself to care. It feels too much like something important is unfolding.

“What did you name it?”

“Ryan.”

“Are you kidding? You’re still obsessed with that damn lion?”

“Don’t diss Ryan. He was there for me in my time of need.”

Namjoon is fully prepared for a snide remark like Yoongi used to always throw at him, but the other’s face suddenly turns serious, and the lightened atmosphere starts weighing down on him as the silence stretches.

“Should I be there too?”

“What?”

“I mean, do you… Do you need me to stay, or should I leave you alone? Not just now, I mean, in a general sense.”

“I’m not… sure.”

Forgiveness is a strange thing. It would be so much easier, to allow Yoongi in his life, to fit the pieces back together. But Yoongi destroyed so much. Not only Jin’s life, but all that they were, all that they could have been. So much wasted potential, with just one mistake. It cannot be right, to just push that aside. It cannot be that easy.

But at the same time… At the same time, they’ve always been the better versions of themselves when they were together. And they still are, he knows it, and he missed him so damn much, and maybe he should allow that part of himself that isn’t so stubbornly rational to push some leniency into his unyielding principles. Maybe he could stand a little forgiveness. Yoongi had made a long journey covered in ashes, maybe it was time for him to rest, too.

Namjoon gingerly pets his cat, who seems to get that something isn’t totally right, and comes to fold itself in the triangle of Namjoon’s crossed legs, purring when the later buries his hands in his fur.

“The song is far from over anyway, right? And if I can help, it would be stupid not to. And if I’m being perfectly honest, I missed this. It was our thing, you know. I just… I don’t know. Need time, I guess. It’s a bit of a mess.”

“It sure is.”

It’s dark in the living room now, the neon lights from outside smearing washed-out colors on the linoleum floor. No one makes a move to get up, though, turn some lights on, as if it would break the fragile peace that fell over them. So they stay seated on the floor, in a silence that’s not entirely uncomfortable, and Namjoon realizes that if losing Jin had been a blow none of them had recovered from, losing Yoongi had dug the hole deeper still. Their makeshift family had imploded, and maybe it was time to put it back together. Give them a chance to heal.

“I think… I think maybe you need to stay. We need to see this through, together, like we should have.”

Yoongi stays silent for a bit, and when he finally opens his mouth on a half-formed answer, Namjoon’s phone goes off in his pocket. It’s Taehyung, and he learned a long time ago to never ignore his calls. He doesn’t understand right away. Taehyung is talking too fast, too loud, his deep voice swallowing words rather than spitting them out. But he gets it, after a while, and he looks at Yoongi with wide eyes.

Seokjin woke-up. Not into this half-state of consciousness they got used to, his gaunt body ambling along with a nurse until it refused to move anymore, and was brought back to his room for another prolonged span of death-like sleep. He opened his eyes and he was conscious, and he talked, and he didn’t remember what had happened, and, and, and… and he’s alive, and they don’t know yet in what state really, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, and Namjoon is smiling, and it hurts his cheeks, and something in his chest explodes in a fury of confused feelings that are too big for him to handle.

There’s a warm embrace around him when he breaks down. For now, it’s all right. For now, everything is. Gold and perfect.


	16. Seokjin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoongi visits Jin, who finally woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments, it really means a lot.

Blue is a comforting color. Yoongi doesn’t understand why Hyunwoo hates it.

“You still haven’t visited him.”

Yoongi shakes his head. They’re both staring at the ceiling, but they’re so close he knows Kihyun will feel it. The tiny bed isn’t made to hold two people but they’re still fitting, somehow, folded into each other’s side. Noises from the TV show Hyunwoo and Minhyuk are watching in the living room filter through the closed door, punctuated by Minhyuk’s occasional bright laugh and loud comments. It feels homey, this apartment, this almost empty room they’re waiting for him to fill. Yoongi can so picture himself living here, there’s an almost melancholic feeling of yearning unfolding somewhere next to his heart.

“It’s already been a week and a half.”

He nods this time, and there’s a small sigh coming from the warm shape lying next to him. He turns his head, Kihyun’s perfect profile filling his vision. Yoongi rarely stops to stare. But he should, maybe, when he’s met with sharp cheekbones and sharper eyes that finally fall on him. He almost feels self-conscious, when Kihyun looks at him from this close. He knows this past year took a toll on him. Hollowed his cheeks and dimmed the light in his eyes. He shuts his lids because there’s nowhere else to hide but in the dark, like a kid who thinks closing his eyes turns him invisible.

There’s a shift, and the touch of soft lips on his, and he slowly relaxes when a hand gently combs through his hair.

“What are you scared of?”

He doesn’t open his eyes, burrowing a bit more into Kihyun instead, swallowing his words, his scent, his warmth.

“I’m not sure.”

Kihyun hums, brushing Yoongi’s hair out of his eyes, tracing his eyebrows, his nose, his lips. He kisses him again, slow and lazy.

“What if he hates me?”

“You’re always scared of this. But no one ever did.”

Yoongi fits their hands together, puts his chin slightly forward for Kihyun to kiss him once more.

“Would you come with me, if I go?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Yoongi buries his head in Kihyun’s neck and the latter closes his arms around him, as much to prevent him falling off the bed than to mold him a bit more into his chest. There’s never enough of touching, it seems.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm?”

Yoongi’s voice comes muffled from somewhere near his shoulder, and Kihyun knows this tone. The guy is that close to falling asleep.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know that, too.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a kiss on Kihyun’s shoulder blade, increased pressure as Yoongi’s hold on him tightens. It’s the second time Kihyun tells him. The second time that Yoongi doesn’t say it back. But it doesn’t need to be put into words for him to feel it, Kihyun thinks. It’s there in lingering stares and warm hands, in shared words and smiles and laughter. It’s enough, and he shuts off the annoying voice at the back of his mind that spells doubt into his mind.

 

It takes another three days and an unscheduled meeting with the tiny Ms. Lee for Yoongi to finally gather the resolve to visit Seokjin in the hospital. The bus ride is silent, Kihyun a solid presence at his side, and Yoongi feels almost guilty for relying on him so much. It doesn’t last long, though, when Kihyun smiles and talks and doesn’t expect an answer, because he does it more to drown out Yoongi’s dark thoughts than anything else. Yoongi puts his head on his shoulder, listens to the familiar voice recounting Jooheon and Hoseok’s latest shenanigans, how Minhyuk settled in his new life without a hitch, thanks to Hyunwoo’s quiet mindfulness, and how Changkyun’s finally acting his age, relief etched into his features each time he looks at Minhyuk.

There’s an underlying statement there that Kihyun weaves in between his words. All these people, they’re here for you, too. What they did for Minhyuk they’d share with you, and there will be the same love, the same relief, if you’d take it. Yoongi inches closer to Kihyun, eyes almost closed. It’s lightly raining, an autumn shower that brings out an earthy smell that isn’t all unpleasant. It’s cold, too, and the bus windows are all fogged up. Yoongi feels sheltered. The lights are dimmed, the sounds muffled, as if, knowing what was about to unfold, the whole world was threading softly, allowing him space to breath, to regroup, to find relief before facing the one waiting for him.

He must fall asleep, because Kihyun suddenly nudges him urgently as the bus comes to a stop, and they tumble out of the vehicle in a rush. Yoongi stands under the rain for a bit, willing his heart to stop beating so fast. The hospital is just there, and three flights of stairs up there’s Seokjin, probably sitting in his bed, chatting up nurses out of boredom, complaining about the food, maybe. Or maybe he’s too tired to do anything and he’s just lying there, in and out of sleep, and maybe Yoongi shouldn’t bother him, and maybe – there’s warm hands on his shoulders, Kihyun putting his face right in front of his eyes so that he’s the only thing Yoongi can see.

“Breathe, it’s going to be okay.”

Yoongi nods, staring in the other’s eyes, finding love and reassurance. He keeps on staring until his heart isn’t banging against his ribs anymore, until his hands aren’t as clammy, until his breathing comes out easy and even.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Kihyun nods, turns around to lead them towards the hospital entrance. He stays close to Yoongi, loops an arm in his, and Yoongi’s cling onto him as he would to a lifeline. There’s a weight on his chest, a knot in his stomach, but it’s going to be okay, because Kihyun said so, and he’s never wrong.

 

Yoongi hesitates before Jin’s door. It’s not the same room anymore, not the same floor. Yoongi’s hands are too cold, and he feels as if he’s going to fall through the floor. Kihyun takes a sit on the plastic bench in the corridor, urging him to go on with a reassuring smile. Yoongi stares at him as if it was the last time, and finally knocks, throat dry and hands sweaty. There’s a soft voice inviting him to enter, and he does, after a last look at Kihyun, who tells him again that it’s going to be okay.

Jin looks like he would crumble under the softest of touches. A bag of bones covered with a sheet almost as white as his skin. But the eyes he turns on Yoongi are warm, lively, and the tired smile that stretches his dried lips is so familiar it almost hurt. Yoongi’s heart lurches, and his feet pushes him at Jin’s side in a few strides. He sits down on the metal chair next to the bed, takes Jin’s hand in his. His touch is feathery-light, but his skin is warm and smooth. Yoongi still cannot bring himself to look into his face.

“I thought you wouldn’t come. Everyone was so cryptic when it came to you, I thought you’d die, and they wouldn’t tell me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jin doesn’t say another word, looking at their entwined fingers. The room is silent, comfortably warm. Yoongi finally looks up, and Jin smiles, opening his mouth again.

“So, how have you been? What did I miss?”

It’s so strange, Yoongi can’t help a startled laugh to escape his lips. Jin’s talking as if he had just been back from a long journey. In a way he had, Yoongi suddenly thinks, they both did, a long journey back from the brink.

“I’m so glad you’re home.”

His voice cracks on the last word. Relief and guilt, so much guilt, pour out of him in sudden sobs, and Jin seems at a loss for a bit, before he gingerly pats Yoongi on the arm in a soothing gesture.

“Everyone keeps crying.”

“I’m so sorry I did this to you. I’m so sorry. I almost killed you. I don’t know how to say this with better words.”

“I’m not mad at you. I don’t even properly remember. Though I’m pretty sure you didn’t force me into that car, and then crashed it on purpose. I’m just glad we both survived.”

Jin was always the best of them. Yoongi wishes he would stop crying, but the sorrow in him seems to have no end and he can’t stop the sobs racking his chest. Jin patiently waits him out, drawing soothing patterns on his skin with a light finger, and soon enough Yoongi realizes it’s out of relief that he’s crying now, overwhelming relief that Jin is here, moving and talking, and it wouldn’t matter if he hated him, never wanted to see him again, it wouldn’t matter because he’s alive and he made it.

Yoongi calms down, slowly, running a sleeve over his face in a futile effort to make himself more presentable.

“You’re all red and puffy.”

“Well, sorry we can’t all be you, M. Handsome.”

Jin smiles, cuffs him lightly over the head. There’s no strength in his limbs, and Yoongi is hit once more by how thin he is, how pale. A ghost, smiling at him from a hospital bed as white as he is.

“How do you feel?”

“Not great.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

“I lost my great body.”

Yoongi smiles, feels a surge in his chest, heralding the coming of fresh sobs. He tries unsuccessfully to quell them, and resigns himself to just letting the tears flow. Jin doesn’t seem to mind.

“You guys really can’t live without me, can you.”

“Shut up.”

He still hasn’t let go of Jin’s hand. It warmed up in his, and as he looks down, another wave of relief crashes into him. He worries at his lips, dries another tear, and he looks up, into Jin’s gaunt face, taking in the reality of him. It’s almost too much. He’s but a wisp of the man he once was, but somehow, he’s never seem so beautiful.

“You know, I forgot a lot of things. I can’t even do basic math anymore.”

“You always sucked at math.”

“I suck even more now. And they have me do all this reading and it’s really hard. It’s like being in preschool again.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just buy me dinner. They’re finally letting me stuff myself and I tell you, food has never been this great. I’m not too fond of the not being able to really walk bit, but they say it’s gonna get better.”

“I guess you’re doing physical therapy? It can be a bitch.”

“You had to do it too? So you did get hurt in the accident?”

“Not… so much in the accident. We’ll talk about it later.”

Jin narrows his eyes but doesn’t pry, talks about himself instead, and that’s all that Yoongi wants to hear. He tires quickly, though, his frail body not able to withstand long spans of wakefulness yet. Yoongi has to bid his goodbyes too soon for his tastes, but he too is drained, he notices as he exits the room and Kihyun is there to greet him. Yoongi crashes into him immediately, burying his head into his shoulder. He feels sobs coming up again, and lets them out, soaking Kihyun’s shirt, who holds him there until the crisis subsides.

“He wasn’t mad.”

He doesn’t lift his head to talk, but Kihyun is so used to Yoongi mumbling words into some part of his body that he understands anyway.

“He wasn’t mad. He was… himself. I’m so fucking relieved. He made jokes. I’m so fucking relieved Kihyun-ah, you have no idea. He’s gonna be fine.”

Kihyun nods, disentangling himself from Yoongi to get a good look at him. His face is red and tear-stained, his hair a mess, but he looks happy. Relieved. Some of the shadows that hang over him have cleared, and Kihyun smiles, bringing him back against his chest. Yeah, it’s going to be okay.

 

 

It’s been a while, since Yoongi hasn’t found himself on the little bench in the hospital’s courtyard. The earth is damp, permeating the air with the same smell he found on his way to Seokjin. He closes his eyes, breathing it in for a bit. He exhales, opening his eyes to watch his breath forming an ephemeral cloud before disappearing completely in the darkness of the evening. The trees swing gently overhead, and it would be perfect, if it wasn’t for the anxious feeling in his chest, that has been steadily pushing against his ribs ever since he left Jin’s room.

“He can never know. He can never know what I did to myself.”

At his side, Himchan exhales yet another puff of smoke in the chill evening air, watching it disappear before considering the slim cigarette resting in between his fingers. He’s not even supposed to smoke here, but somehow, he cannot bring himself to care.

“Do you think it would help if I just smoked half of it? Or would I just smoke more half-cigarettes than I do entire ones?”

“What the heck are you talking about?”

“I’m trying to quit. My roommate whopped my ass.”

Yoongi stares at Himchan in disbelief for a bit, then wave at himself.

“I’m having a crisis here, can’t you see?”

The nurse shrugs, takes another drag of his cigarette. The ring of fire goes past the middle of the white cylinder, leaving behind a trail of ashes. So that’s it for that, he thinks.

“I heard. It seems real impractical. You’ll have to not wear short sleeves around him, ever. Gonna suck when June comes around. You’ll have sweaty elbows. Sweaty elbows, my guy.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes, a snarky rebuttal on the tip of his tongue, but Himchan cuts him off.

“I understand if you don’t want to tell him. But know that you have nothing to be ashamed of. You hit rock bottom, and you worked hard to get past it, to get where you are now. And it wasn’t easy. That’s something you can be proud of. He won’t think less of you, or whatever it is you’re afraid of. We’re all proud of you, and you should be, too. There’s no shame in what you went through. If he’s as great as you say he is, he should understand.”

“I’m not… ashamed.”

“If it’s not shame, then what is it?”

Yoongi looks downs. Turns his arms over and stares at his sleeves, picturing the scars underneath the black fabric of his hoodie. Maybe it is shame. He’s literally wearing his vulnerability on his body, and he knows this darkness will never fully leave him. Maybe he wants someone to see him as he was, as he could be, unblemished and pure and happy. Maybe he just doesn’t want Jin to worry about him when he should think of himself first.

“I don’t know. I don’t know, I’m just… It’s a lot.”

“Take your time.”

Himchan snuffs out his cigarette against the bench, looks around for a bin. There isn’t one, so he wraps his stub in a tissue and pockets it. He sags against the backrest, tilting his head back to look at the sky in between the tree branches, already almost free of leaves. Winter is upon them and he shivers, although it’s not even that cold yet.

“You don’t have to resolve everything now. You can tell him in your own time, or not tell him at all, although I’d advise against it. You can wait for him to be better, stronger, and for yourself to be as well. You’re doing great, Yoongi. Don’t pile too much on yourself.”

Yoongi looks down, at his cuffed shoes and his worn-out jeans. Looks up, towards the sky, black as ink and empty of stars. He nods, even though Himchan can’t see him. He hears Kihyun, somewhere, telling him it’s going to be okay, and Kihyun is never wrong. The ache in his chest subsides a little. Himchan is right, too. He can give himself a little time.  

 

 

“Hyungwon?”

“Hm?”

“What if he realizes he doesn’t need me anymore?”

Hyungwon looks over his shoulder, to be met once again with the sight of Kihyun moping on his bed. He tries to assess the gravity of the situation, ends up deciding it does deserve a full turning around. His chair swivels and he leans forward, propping his elbows on his thighs to support his chin.

“Isn’t that good?”

“What do you mean?”

“He should be with you because he enjoys your company. Not just because he needs you to do stuff for him. You’re his boyfriend, not his butler. Or his shrink.”

Kihyun worries at his bottom lip, eyes trailing on Hyungwon’s face, who patiently waits out the examination with a bored expression splattered on.

“Isn’t it nice to be needed, though?”

“Do you need me?”

“Well, I’m using you to vent right now.”

“You could go to Hyunwoo for that. Even Hoseok.”

“But you’re better at this. I like your insights.”

“See. You like them. That’s different than just plain need. You like me, so you come to me. You’d still come even if you had no problems whatsoever.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, if he likes you, he’ll still come to you, even if he magically becomes the most stable man on Earth. He’s not with you just because he felt like shit and you were conveniently there. If that’s what you think, you should take it up with him. And if it’s true then we’d get Hoseok to spin kick him in the face or something.”

“Don’t assault my barely-out-of-the-hospital boyfriend.”

“You always put everyone else before you. Maybe he does deserve a spin-kick to the head.”

“Have you seen Hoseok’s thighs? He would crack open Yoongi’s head like a grape.”

Kihyun makes a funny little noise while opening his balled-up hand in the mimicry of an explosion and Hyungwon laughter suddenly fills the room. Kihyun feels lighter. Hyungwon and him, they don’t need to put their feelings for each other into words to know what they are, that they’re there, strong and steady. It’s enough. And maybe it’s enough with Yoongi too, like this, and he has no need to feel so insecure when it’s blatantly obvious what the other feels for him. He’s smiling, and suddenly the bed dips next to him and Hyungwon’s face fills his vision.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah. I guess I was just being an insecure idiot.”

“Who isn’t.”

“You?”

“Yeah, but have you seen me? Who wouldn’t like this face?”

Hyungwon makes an atrocious grimace like only he knows how, and Kihyun laughs, the last of his sudden worry seeping out of him.

“I’ll go burn incense in your honor. But yeah, thanks. I need to make sure he knows how I feel though, so I’ll keep telling him.”

“You’re a sap, you know that.”

“I’m this close to running away in embarrassment.”

“You can’t.”

Hyungwon lets himself fall on the tiny bed next to Kihyun, almost knocking him out with his gangly limbs.

“You need to help me finish my assignment.”

“You do know I changed majors for a reason, right.”

“Hyung, come on.”

“You only break out the ‘hyung’ when you need something, you brat.”

“Is it working?”

“No.”

There’s an undignified noise coming out of Hyungwon, and Kihyun shoots his hand in the general direction of his head to ruffle his hair. Hyungwon positions himself in the right spot for it to happen, and they both settle comfortably on the bed.

“It’s great, for his friend, hyung.”

“Yeah, it is. You can stop calling me hyung. I’m not doing your homework.”

“You know what, Hoseok hyung is back to being my favorite.”

“This doesn’t affect me.”

“You should work on your personality.”

Hyungwon’s voice dims on the last words, and when Kihyun peeks towards him, the latter has already closed his eyes. Kihyun is incessantly amazed at Hyungwon’s ability to fall asleep anytime and anywhere, and he scoots back a little, to allow more space for the younger to sprawl. Hyungwon shifts, an arm coming up to rest across Kihyun’s chest, the other pillowing his head. He’s mumbling something and Kihyun cranes his neck to hear him better.

“Hyung, it’s okay to be a little insecure sometimes. Just talk about it before it gets too much. I’m asleep now. Please do my homework.”

Kihyun snorts, and Hyungwon burrows a little more into his covers, effectively putting himself to sleep.

“Okay, I get it. I’ll do your damn homework.”

The hand on his chest slowly morphs into a thumb up and Kihyun wriggles from underneath Hyungwon’s arm to go take a look at the papers on his desk. It’s math. He already hates it.


	17. A life worth living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoongi moves out, Seokjin is brought up to speed, and Kihyun gets what he was waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a late update again! I'm really sorry. I hope to update more regularly from now on, and I should wrap it up by the new year, but between what I say and what I do there's a tropical jungle, three canyons and burning embers so who knows.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading up until now, and I deeply appreciate the comments you guys are leaving, they really keep me going!

Their routine quickly becomes well-established. Yoongi shows up every Wednesday in the early afternoon, taking a bus from the hospital. The driver always brakes too hard and goes too fast, forcing him to hang onto the straps with all his might. It’s a good exercise for his tired arms though, which almost regained all their previous strength. It doesn’t hurt anymore. If it wasn’t for the scars, Yoongi could easily pretend nothing ever happened. When he thinks about it, watching the scenery run fast behind the dirty windows of the bus, it all feels like a distant memory. Waking up in the hospital, in pain, locked inside his own mind. There was so much change in so little time, almost as if he’d now became a new version of himself. A better version, incomparably stronger. Asking for help was never a show of weakness. It brought him back.

Yoongi shows up every Wednesday in the early afternoon and they sit side by side in Namjoon’s little studio, Ryan the cat sleeping in their laps or brushing up against their legs. It was strictly business at first. But Jin’s awakening had shifted everything. There is a weight off everyone’s shoulders, and it makes every interaction easier, somehow, the worries eating at them subsiding into something tiny at the back of their minds. Jin is all right. Maybe everything else can be, too.

So they sit side by side in Namjoon’s little studio, and sometimes they forget all about Hoseok’s song, instead falling into stunted discussions, trying to see how they can fit together again after all this time. It’s not easy. It’s not hard, either. It’s just what it is. Testing boundaries with awkward smiles and careful banter, getting to know each other all over again, trying to make amends, maybe. It’s not hard. It’s not easy, either. They tip-toe around each other, careful not to go too far lest the other closes up again. But it was always there, the deep affection they hold for each other. Buried under fear, resentment, anger. It’s just a matter of time until it finds its way into the sun again.

The studio acts like a cocoon for their jumbled feelings, warm and silent, protective. It’s just them there, them and a small fluffy cat. It feels safe. They can let their friendship bloom again, in peace. Work helps, too. It’s easy to fall back into familiar patterns, almost like letting muscle memory take over. So here they are, pushing and pulling at each other. It’s fine, though. These things take time.

“Have you talked to Jin?”

“About what?”

“You know. Yourself.”

Yoongi’s eyes don’t leave the computer screen, while Namjoon is seated just next to him, lazily playing with Ryan, dangling his hoodie’s string in front of the cat’s eyes, who swats at it excitedly. He glances at Yoongi, who remains silent, seemingly focusing on the information on the screen. Namjoon knows he’s listening, though.

“He’s asking questions about you. He says you always circle the conversation back to himself when he asks about what you’ve been up to all this time. So we kinda lie but it’s suspicious.”

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck, glances briefly at Namjoon before turning back to the computer. Namjoon just stares at him, dropping his hoodie’s string to bury his hands into his cat’s fur. Ryan starts to purr.

“You all suck at lying.”

“That’s why you need to talk to him.”

“I don’t want him to know.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. He has enough to worry about.”

Namjoon stays silent for a bit, looking down at the cat in his lap.

“Is there anything we should be worried about? Aren’t you doing okay?”

“I am.”

“Then starts from there.”

Yoongi sighs, dropping his gaze from the computer. He’s looking down, seemingly lost in thoughts, before finally turning to face Namjoon.

“I don’t know how to tell him. What to tell him. I don’t want to sound pitiful.”

“You won’t. Aren’t you supposed to be good with words?”

“I guess.”

“Then why are those lyrics so shit?”

Yoongi laughs, sudden and bright, lightly shoving Namjoon who holds up his hands in surrender. Slowly, they’re finding it again, the balance in their relationship. Pushing each other forward, with a laugh and a challenge. The pieces of the puzzle are starting to fit together again. Namjoon is sure of one thing. It will be all right. It has to.

 

Jin is putting on a little weight. His cheeks start filling out, he doesn’t look so close to death anymore. The hospital staff lets him gorge himself in the cafeteria. Some older patients share they deserts with him, because it’s nice, seeing a young man with such a will to get better.

So Yoongi shows up with Kihyun’s famous homemade kimbaps, and that’s how the conversation starts. With Kihyun, and those kimbaps he shared with Yoongi on his second day in the hospital. It’s easier than Yoongi thought it would be. The words rush out of him and Seokjin listens without making a sound. It was always easy, to talk to him. Yoongi feels strange. Recounting his struggle with depression, his suicide attempt, the first month in the hospital; it feels like talking about someone else. But it did happen to him, and he needs to own it. It’s a part of him, now. He will always be the guy that tried to end it when it got too much. But he’s also the one that made it back, the one that worked so hard to rebuild a life worth living. The one that made it, maybe.

He feels empty when the last word of his story leaves his mouth. Jin stays silent for a bit, sitting cross-legged atop his bed, propped up against a mountain of pillows that wasn’t there the last time Yoongi visited. Minhyuk comes to mind when Yoongi looks at him. The image is comforting, and it’s not dread that fills the emptiness inside him, but relief. This is who I am, he told Jin. It’s your choice whether you embrace it or not.

Of course, Seokjin does. He pulls Yoongi into a hug, and he says sorry for not having been there, and Yoongi laughs, because really, who apologizes for being in a coma. Maybe one of them cries, maybe both, and they make fun of each other. Jin doesn’t let go of Yoongi’s hand. A long time ago he collected a ragtag gang of people and made them into his family of choice. So he will embrace anything they throw his way, and he will forgive, and he will bring them back together again.

“You guys really are lost without me.”

“Well. I did almost kill you. I get why they would be mad.”

“It was an accident.”

“Doesn’t erase the guilt nor the anger.”

Jin’s mouth twists, and he takes on patting Yoongi’s hand comfortingly, like an old grandpa would do.

“Well, it’s gonna be fine, now that I’m back.”

“You can’t even do math. You can barely walk.”

“I never could do math. And who needs muscles when they have those handy wheelchairs to get you around. It’s gonna be fine, I tell you.”

Seokjin is smiling again, and Yoongi bites back a laugh.

“How can you be this positive, seriously.”

“Someone needs to be. I already have you guys moping around all day, you basically do all the complaining for me.”

“Got a point there I guess.”

“We almost lost each other for good. Let’s not waste time being stupid about it.”

There’s something in Jin’s eyes, something dark, sorrow maybe, grief, over what happened to them, and fear in the face of how much worse it could have been. So Yoongi hugs him again. They’re both here, they both made it, and it is indeed pointless to dwell over past mistakes, over wasted lives and painful memories. They need to rebuild, now. A life worth living.

 

Yoongi moves out on a Friday. It’s snowing. He likes it. It feels fresh, clean, like a new beginning. All his possessions fit neatly in the trunk of Himchan’s car, next to the two boxes that never left it. He sits in the passenger seat, and they drive in silence. He had thought he would feel sadder in leaving this place that saved his life, but he just feels giddy, excitement electrifying his whole body. He doesn’t look back when the little car leaves the parking lot, doesn’t look back when they drive past the gates onto the busy road. He made it out. He made it out, and it’s a bit scary in a way, taking back the reigns of his own life. But he tells himself it’s going to be okay. There’s a place waiting for him, a blue room in a too big apartment.

Himchan is silent at his side, eyes fixated on the road, hands at 9 and 3 on the wheel. Yoongi glances at him from time to time, before settling his eyes on the scenery scrolling past the window. Seoul looks different under the snow, softer somehow, noises and colors dimmed by the thick white blanket that covers all. It feels like it somehow knows something decisive is unfolding, and this is just for him, everything blurred and silenced out of respect. Yoongi glances at Himchan’s hands on the wheel, strong and steady. At his own clammy hands, resting in his lap. He moves his fingers, looks at the bones moving under his too-pale skin. His throat is dry suddenly and he swallows, excitement morphing into worry in the pit of his stomach.

“Himchan?”

“Yeah?”

 “What if it doesn’t go well?”

“Then you come back, and it’s okay. Sometimes you need several tries to get something right.”

“I feel like I’m already on my last one.”

Himchan takes a left, puts the windshield wipers on a higher setting now that the snow is falling harder. He glances at Yoongi for a split second before looking back at the road, exhaling a small sigh. In the small enclosed space of the car, warmed by the heaters, it almost feels like they’re in their own little world, sheltered, safe. It is a familiar feeling, Yoongi thinks, and the worry subsides a little. Namjoon’s little studio. Himchan’s car. A bed in a blue room with a warm shape lying next to him. It’s okay. There are places where he can exist.

“There isn’t a set number of tries. It’s always okay to go back. Yoongi, if this doesn’t work, you must talk about it. We will help, you know that. But you know, maybe it is your last try. Not because there are no more chances after that, there always is, but because you’re going to succeed. It’s going to be fine.”

“You really believe it.”

“Yeah. And if I’m wrong, just come back. I’ll let you kick my ass and then we can start over. No harm done. All right?”

“All right.”

Yoongi settles back, looks out the window again. He’s appeased, simple words spoken with enough confidence that he finds himself believing in their meaning. There will be stronger hands than his own to hold him up until he can stand unaided.

 

Yoongi is engulfed in a hug as soon as the door opens. Minhyuk smells like shampoo and home, lets go only when Yoongi complains of being crushed.

“Welcome home, Yoongi.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

Minhyuk drags him towards his room babbling all the while, as Hyunwoo gets out of his own to help Himchan take the boxes inside.

“Kihyun has classes until 5 but we thought we could have dinner together here. He’s gonna cook.”

“Cool.”

They are quick to help him unpack. Hyunwoo offers Himchan something to drink and Minhyuk follows them, leaving Yoongi to stand alone in the middle of the room. His room. A place where he can exist, a place that will watch as he tries to grow. Blue is a comforting color. It’s going to be okay. There’s still a strange feeling gnawing at him though, too close to dread, and he’s standing at the edge of a precipice again. It is a big step forward he’s taking, almost too much, overwhelming.

His chest is hollow and yes, it is dread he’s feeling, a deep fear that he’s not strong enough, that this was too early, another mistake he made, and – and Minhyuk laughter suddenly fills the room as he pushes the door open, asking him what the hell is he doing, that he must come see, that Hyunwoo made a mess. Yoongi latches onto him, onto his laugh, his words that barely make sense, his presence. Minhyuk grabs him and his touch is warm, his hands strong. Yoongi exhales.

“Everything okay here?”

“Yeah, sorry. I just. I need a moment.”

Minhyuk nods, stirring him to the bed where they both sit down.

“Feeling overwhelmed?”

Yoongi remains silent, his eyes not leaving Minhyuk’s face. Minhyuk doesn’t let go of his hand.

“I felt the same. Still feel the same sometimes. But it’s going to be okay, really. You’re not alone, there’s me and there’s Hyunwoo and there’s everyone else too. We’ll all help each other. If they let you go, it’s because you were ready.”

Yoongi is staring at Minhyuk’s hands on him, at his earnest face, lets his words fill his mind, drowning out the dread and the dark thoughts clouding his brain.

“It’s going to be okay.”

Yoongi nods. This time, if he falls, there will be someone to catch him.

 

It’s almost too domestic, Yoongi realizes, when he’s watching Kihyun work at the stove, cooking up something that smells heavenly. Minhyuk was banished from the kitchen, and resorted to bully Hyunwoo into watching yet another drama with him. Noises from the television and Minhyuk’s occasional comments float in through the open door, mixing up with the sounds of Kihyun’s cooking. It’s warm, homey, domestic. Yoongi is still skirting on the edges and he’s afraid everything will turn sour and vanish if he allows himself to fall into it.

There’s a clank when Kihyun puts a mug on the table in front of him, steaming and full of tea. Yoongi looks up at him, and the frown on Kihyun’s face tells him he’s been spacing out again.

“Yoongi, what it is?”

“Nothing.”

Kihyun cocks an eyebrow. Yoongi doesn’t need much more to surrender.

“It’s just. You’re in my kitchen.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you see? I have a kitchen.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“I thought I’d be dead by now. And now I have a kitchen. And a boyfriend who’s cooking in it.”

Kihyun’s concerned expression morphs into a smile as he takes a seat next to Yoongi, wiping his hands on the ridiculous apron Minhyuk insisted he had to wear.

“I’m glad it turned out this way.”

“Yeah. I am, too. It’s just. I need some time to get used to it. It seems a bit too good to be true.”

Kihyun takes Yoongi’s hand in his, and Yoongi stares at their linked fingers. Kihyun has slender hands, but he’s good with manual labor, good at everything else, too. Yoongi stares, and yeah, Kihyun is strong enough to hold him up, too, until he can stand on his own. 

“I love you.”

“What?”

Yoongi looks up and Kihyun is staring at him with wide eyes. It would be comical, if Yoongi’s chest wasn’t swelling with the enormity of what he had just said.

“I’m sorry I rely on you so much.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I’m happy to do it.”

“Still. I feel like you should know. It’s hard for me to say but I do. Love you, I mean.”

“Did… Did Hyungwon kick your ass?”

“What? Why would he do that?”

“No. Nevermind. I love you too.”

“I know. You keep saying it.”

Kihyun withdraws his hand to shove Yoongi, who just laughs, suddenly lighthearted. He closes his hands around the mug, takes a sip, grimaces when it’s still too hot.

“I want… I want to be someone you can rely on, too. I’ll work on it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. But I want to.”

Kihyun stares at the table, seemingly focusing on something only he can see.

“I was… I was worried you’d ditch me once you no longer needed me.”

“What?”

Kihyun’s hand shots up as if to wave away his words.

“I know it’s stupid, I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t think that anymore but… I’m still glad that you told me, that you, you know.”

“That I love you.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s that face you’re making?”

“I’m not making any face.”

“You want to run away don’t you.”

“Maybe.”

“For someone this sappy you do get embarrassed a lot.”

“My life is so hard.”

Kihyun puts his head on the table and Yoongi laughs, brushing out the dark hair that have fallen into his eyes.

“I’ll tell you more often then.”

“Please don’t.”

Kihyun grabs hold of Yoongi’s wrist to push back his hand, but doesn’t let go. Yoongi tangles their fingers together, and they just stare at each other for a while, silent, until Kihyun closes his eyes.

“I’m really happy I met you.”

“I am, too.”

“What’s this weird atmosphere? Did Kihyun say something cringy again?”

They both jump, looking up at the intruder. Minhyuk strides in, walking up to the fridge.

“I’m right, aren’t I.”

Kihyun looks at Yoongi who just rolls his eyes, burying his face in his giant mug. The tips of his ears are red, and Kihyun looks fond, suddenly. Minhyuk glances at him, mimics gagging, and Kihyun swats at him with a laugh.

“No, you’re not. You can set the table, food is pretty much done.”

“Cool. I was getting hungry and Hyunwoo is that close to strangling me.”

“What did you do to the poor guy?”

“His bear brain cannot process my superior sense of humor.”

“You were just being an annoying little shit, weren’t you?”

“Maybe. Watchu gonna do about it.”

Kihyun just sighs and stands up to help Minhyuk set up the table. For their first meal together as roommates they decided to eat in the dining room like proper grown-ups, and Yoongi watches them file out of the kitchen bearing plates and cutlery, lightheartedly bickering all the while. He sips on his tea, listening to the diverse noises coming from the living room. Minhyuk’s lively chatter, Kihyun’s snide remarks, Hyunwoo’s quiet laugh, the tinkling of glasses and cutlery being set down. He can make it, he thinks. In this place, with those people. He can rebuild a life worth living.

 

 

 


	18. And finally, Jungkook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all meet in Busan, all of them, for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter is here!  
> I thought a lot about if I should make one or more chapters, but I pretty much said all I wanted to say with this story, so this will be the last one. I agonized a bit about how I should wrap it up, that's why it took so long, but then I decided thinking about it too much wasn't getting me anywhere. So I just sat down and this came out. I hope it won't disappoint, since an ending is always important.

It’s too cold, way too cold to be sitting on an empty beach staring at dark waters, and Yoongi shivers. The wind is biting, he can feel it slipping in the cracks of the armor of layers he built around himself. He doesn’t mind, though. He’s waiting for the Gwangalli bridge to light up.

There’s footsteps behind him, and a familiar voice talking over the wind.

“There you are. Aren’t you freezing? Here, eat this.”

Kihyun squats on his haunches next to him, thrusting in his direction a paper cone full of steaming bungeoppangs that burn the tip of his fingers when Yoongi grabs one.

“Thanks.”

Kihyun nods, a small smile on his angular face, and his eyes fall to the water. On the bridge, on its lights that can finally be seen. His gaze falls on its reflection in the water, a moving mirror of the real thing, broken lines and muddled colors.  

“We should get going soon. You’re not answering your phone so they’re blowing up mine.”

Yoongi nods, makes no move to get up. He huddles more on himself instead, hand shooting out to grab at another pastry. Kihyun gives him the whole thing, watches him stuff two of the little fish shapes into his mouth, making his cheeks bulge. He would laugh, if Yoongi’s eyes staring at the water didn’t look so dark. So he inches closer instead, lightly bumpimp their shoulders together. His fingers are frozen, and he blows on them before speaking.

“What is it?”

Yoongi shakes his head, puts one more fish into his mouth.

“It’s stupid.”

“Come on. Nothing is stupid.”

“It’s just. They’re all going to be there.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s the first time I’ll see them all. That we will all be together. Like before.”

Kihyun hums under his breath, shoves his frozen fingers in his jacket’s pockets. Busan is too cold in the winter. Too empty, beachgoers holding out for the summer in heated buildings with fogged-up windows. He peers around his shoulder, and yes, it’s only him and Yoongi here, staring out at the waters lapping gently a few feet away from them, a salty sea wind tangling their hair and beating their faces dry.

“It’s going to be fine.”

“How do you know?”

“Because they all want it to be fine.”

Yoongi turns to look at him, chewing one, two, three times before swallowing the pastries, cheeks returning to normal. Kihyun laughs then, finally, playfully pushing him, and Yoongi makes a show of falling in the sand.

“You look like a hamster.”

“I learned from the best.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

Kihyun pointedly looks at him, at his dark shape awkwardly half-sitting half-laying in the sand, a bundle of clothes and wild hair and too much worries. He grabs his arm, tugs, and Yoongi falls into him, arms coming to rest around his waist, burying his face in his chest.

“I know it’s stupid. They all said they wanted me there. It’s just, I don’t know. How can I not be worried?”

Kihyun hums again, strokes his hair, lightly scratching his scalp, and Yoongi clothes his eyes, breathing out.

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“This was all a vast conspiracy, they actually all hate me, and this is a trap set up for a final public humiliation before we never speak again.”

“What’s the best that could happen?”

“We all fall into each other’s arms professing our undying love. Someone cries. I find a billion won in the bathroom.”

“What’s the most likely?”

Yoongi noses into Kihyun’s chest, tightens his hold on his waist.

“It’s going to be awkward as fuck but then Taehyung will say something stupid, Jungkook will smack him, and everyone will relax.”

“Yeah. Breath. It’s going to be fine.”

 

There’s a feeling of familiarity when Yoongi trips in the middle of the crossing and Kihyun grabs his hand, pulling him ahead, running and laughing, spilling nonsense about how they’re late again, always late. Yoongi is out of breath, chest constricting, and he’s boiling in his armor of layers, but there’s no time to stop because they’re late again, always late, and he doesn’t know why Kihyun is laughing but he is, bright and airy, and Yoongi find his own face has split into a gummy grin he can’t seem to have control over.

When they finally skid to a halt in front of the venue, sweaty and out of breath, Yoongi almost expects Taehyung to be there, falsely annoyed like last time, grumbling at them to hurry up, bickering with a laughing Kihyun. But it’s not him who stands at the entrance, big eyes scanning his surroundings in search of a familiar face. Yoongi stops walking and breathing altogether, and Kihyun looks back at him with worry on his face when he realizes he stopped following him.

“What is it? Come, we’re already late.”

Kihyun grabs his hand at the same time a familiar voice calls his name, and he’s in front of him now, taller and broader than Yoongi remembers.

“Been a while, hyung.”

“Hm, yeah, it has.”

Jungkook’s smiling, and he looks his age then, bunny teeth and bright eyes almost disappearing behind a mop of black hair. He immediately turns his attention to Kihyun, and that gives Yoongi some time to gather himself.

“You’re the boyfriend?”

“Must be, he got only one.”

“That you know of.”

Kihyun barks out a laugh and starts scolding Jungkook, who answers in kind. Yoongi shifts closer to his boyfriend, his hand still grabbing his, staring at the exchange as if he couldn’t believe the reality of it. Jungkook had returned to Busan not a month after the accident, not a month after they all broke apart. That was the last Yoongi had heard of him, and yet here he was, smiling and joking, looking the best he ever had, as if nothing had happened.

Jungkook catches him looking, and there’s something wary in his eyes, something his smile cannot hide. Yoongi understands, then. It’s easier talking to Kihyun than it is talking to him; neither of them knows what they should be saying to breach the distance between them. So Jungkook protects himself with smiles and bratty jokes, and Yoongi hides behind Kihyun. It’s fine. They have time.

“We should go inside, Hoseok starts playing in like ten minutes, and he’s been on everyone’s case since this morning. He plays it cool, but he’s scared shitless.”

 

The venue isn’t much different than the ones Hoseok plays in Seoul. The stage might be slightly bigger, the ceiling slightly higher, but the sound engineer is still stuck against a back wall that is covered in stickers and flyers of previous shows. One thing changed. Yoongi spots it right away, on a table in a corner, amongst all the merchandising. Hoseok’s record. The one Yoongi was forbidden to listen to until he could do it live first. He leaves Kihyun with Jungkook, cutting through the small crowd until he reaches the table. The record cover is simple, just an artsy picture of the band, but it looks good, professional, and there’s a swell of pride in Yoongi’s chest.

He’s about to grab one when there’s a warm hand on his shoulder and he nearly jumps, turning around nerves afire.

“It’s just me, hyung.”

“Shit, you scared me.”

“I can see that.”

A small smile is playing on Namjoon’s lips and Yoongi punches him on the shoulder, lightly, eliciting a laugh. Namjoon pretends to be hurt, rubs at his shoulder with mock-pain on his face.

“You haven’t listened to it yet, have you?”

He’s nodding towards the table.

“No. Have you?”

“No. He wanted everyone to hear it live first. Says it sounds better that way. I haven’t even heard the final recording of the song we made.”

Somewhere along the way, it had stopped been only Yoongi’s song, and became theirs. Countless hours poured into it, hunched together over the computer in Namjoon’s tiny home studio, and even more hours spent drinking and talking late into the night. Finding their friendship, their balance, again. Building something better, stronger.

“I guess we’ll see.”

“I’m a bit nervous. What do we do if it actually sucks?”

“Lie, I guess.”

Namjoon laughs, and the lights suddenly dim. They look at each other with barely concealed excitement and make their way forward, finding Taehyung standing near the stage, who welcomes them with a bright smile. Jin will watch from backstage, he tells them, because if he’s indeed doing better, they worried he wouldn’t make it through the whole show. Namjoon nods, and Yoongi is about to say something when Jimin barrels into him from nowhere. He trips against Taehyung who steadies him, laughing. Jimin is beaming up at him, talking excitedly about something Yoongi is too distracted to focus on. He watches him instead, watches them, and find that the worry from earlier has all but subsided.

“I lost your boyfriend. He’s just too damn small.”

The voice in his ear makes him turn around and it’s Jungkook, all smiles again.

“I’m just behind you, you fucking giraffe.”  

Kihyun elbows him in the ribs, making his way to Yoongi.

“I retire what I said earlier. This is not going fine. Your friends are all terrible.”

Jungkook opens his mouth in mock offense.

“I’ve been nothing but a delight to him and that’s how I’m rewarded? Please tell me this is just the travel size version of your actual, taller boyfriend.”

Yoongi is about to answer something, he’s not quite sure what yet, when he’s beaten to it by Kihyun and Jimin who have struck an alliance in instant solidarity against Jungkook. There’s a lot of playfighting and screaming after that, until the band getting on stage puts an end to it. All eyes fall on Hoseok, who beams at them, before his serious stage persona takes over. He made it, Yoongi realizes as he watches him stand there, oozing confidence and pride. Yoongi smiles then, chest swelling, and his hand find Kihyun’s, who folds himself into his side, warm and real, there, always there. The first chords ring out, and Yoongi looks around, at Taehyung’s serious eyes focused on Hoseok, at Jimin and Jungkook, arms thrown over each other’s waist and shoulders, at Namjoon, who looks back at him with a smile, and nods, as if he knows what’s going on in Yoongi’s head. In this particular moment, in this tiny venue lost in Busan, Yoongi finally feels it. Happiness.

 

When the first chords of the final song resonate, Yoongi recognizes it immediately. His eyes snap to Namjoon, who looks back at him with a proud smile, and they both gaze at the stage again, at the dimming lights, at Hoseok who looks straight at Yoongi. Kihyun’s hand tightens around his, as if he knows somehow, and Yoongi spares him a glance. He’s beautiful, like this, Yoongi thinks. Hair wild, skin glistening, lips slightly parted. He’s about to tell him something when the singer’s smooth voice fills the gaps in between the music notes, and Yoongi is enraptured again, eyes riveted to the stage.

_I want to breath, I hate this night. I want to wake-up, I hate this dream. I’m trapped inside of myself and I’m dying._

There’s an ache in his chest when he listens to words he barely remembers writing. But Hoseok’s gaze never wavers, Kihyun’s grip never weakens, and he holds onto it, onto them, and the pain eases out, slowly, as the music takes him from darkness to light.

_Thank you for letting me be me, for helping me fly, for giving me wings, for straightening me out, for waking me from being suffocated, for waking me from a dream which I was living in._

He remembers, then, the months in the hospital. Minhyuk’s immediate, easy friendship, Himchan’s quiet wisdom, the countless hours the tiny Ms. Lee put into giving him the means to build himself back up from nothing; Kihyun’s unwavering support through it all. The time he was allowed, the strength they borrowed him, to be able to start over, because nothing is ever truly lost. All this, so he could stand there. Still afraid, maybe, that if he were to turn back and watch the darkness he left behind, they will swallow him again. But he knows how to fight, now, and he’s not alone.

_Don’t wanna be lonely._

They ride Hoseok’s post-concert high all the way back to Gwangalli beach. He’s excited, almost drunk, and it’s contagious, as they run around kicking up sand, chasing each other to keep themselves warm. Except Jin, still too thin, still too easy to tire out. He hangs back, bundled in too many clothes, and Yoongi stays with him, looking at the kids running around.  Jin sighs, a small smile on his full lips, and turns to Yoongi, watches him for a bit. Yoongi doesn’t mind the staring, but he just has to ask.

“What is it?”

Jin shrugs, turns his head towards the others again, a faraway look on his face.

“Nothing. Just. I can’t believe everything that happened. And yet. We’re still all here. All together.”

Yoongi looks over, too. Jimin fell. Taehyung is trying to help him get up but he’s laughing too hard, and Kihyun pushes him over while Namjoon tries to calm them down, laughing too. Children.

“It wasn’t easy.”

“No. But we made it. And from now on, let’s try not to almost die again.”

Yoongi snorts, punches him lightly on the shoulder.

“I’m not driving ever again so that’s at least one danger out of the way.”

“You aren’t?”

Yoongi shakes his head.

“Couldn’t sit behind a wheel ever since the accident. I don’t get shitfaced anymore, either.”

“What a great man you’re becoming.”

There’s a shape coming towards them, and it’s too dark to see who it is until the person is only a few feet away from them. Jungkook. He lets himself fall in the sand, shivers a bit. Yoongi would scoot closer to him, share the warmth, but he’s not sure where they stand yet.

“What are you guys talking about?”

“How you stink.”

Jungkook shoots Jin a murderous glare, the latter goofily smiling at him.

“You’re a loon. Seriously, you guys looked all solemn.”

He shivers again, and Yoongi throws him his scarf, lowering his jacket’s hood over his head. It shelters him, a bit, from Jungkook’s stare while he wraps the scarf around his neck.

“Thanks.”

“Gotta take care of the children.”

“Shut up.”

Jungkook kicks him, and Jin whacks both of them over the head.

“No fighting in front of sick people.”

“You’re not sick.”

“I so am.”

“You’re just milking it so that we do whatever you want.”

“Maybe. The privilege of the almost dead.”

Yoongi watches them bicker in silence, and it’s strange, hearing them joke about this so lightly. As if it was already all in the past, years behind them. He thinks back on Minhyuk, his constant light mood in the face of everything. _Crying about it won_ _’t change anything_.

He doesn’t realize the other two have fell silent until Jungkook pokes his thigh.

“Sorry, what?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing. Just. If this is really okay?”

“If what is really okay?”

They all look up at the new intrusion, and it’s Jimin, cheeks red, out of breath.

“Please protect me.”

He falls between Yoongi and Jungkook, half across the latter, who calls him gross and pushes at him until Taehyung’s tall frame cages him in from his other side. There’s Namjoon, too, walking side-by-side with Kihyun. Yoongi scoots back, offering them room to sit. Kihyun immediately fits himself against his side, Namjoon sitting next to Jin. Hoseok is the last to join. He’s screaming something at the ocean and they all watch him, laughing, talking, pushing this way and that to accommodate tall limbs and pointy elbows. Hoseok bounces up to them, beaming, still high from the success of his concert, and they let him rave at them some more about the greatness of his band, until Namjoon gets him to shut up with a bag of chips.

“Whose stupid idea was it to come to the beach, I’m freaking cold.”

“What if we all freeze to death?”

“We can’t. We already agreed to not almost die again.”

“What?”

“Should we go back, eat something?”

“Can we stay a bit? It’s nice, like this.”

It is nice, Yoongi thinks, looking at each face in turn. Cheeks and noses reddened by the cold, hair full of sand, bundled in too many clothes, huddled for warmth, bright smiles and loud voices mixing with each other. The waves make a pleasant sound, appeasing, and despite the cold wind it’s almost comfortable, like this, the night knitting a safe cocoon around their hunched shoulders. The moon shines bright overhead, brighter than usual, almost full, and it’s a good night for starting over, it really is. Yoongi breathes in the cold air, closes his eyes, listens. This is it, he thinks. This is where his life will start again.

Yoongi opens his eyes, looks at Jungkook. He looks back, and the wariness in his eyes has disappeared, replaced by a tentative hope, relief, maybe. It’s okay. These things take time. And he got plenty, now.

Taehyung says something stupid. Jungkook smacks him. There’s laughter, a playful rebuttal. Yoongi closes his eyes again, lets himself sink in the warmth of his friends, of his lover. From now on and forever, he will be okay.

 

 

_Thank you, for being ‘us’._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I finished something.
> 
> I'm not saying goodbye to this universe entirely as I have been thinking of doing a spin-off centered on minor characters we saw throughout this story that I wanted to develop a bit more. So if you're interested, keep an eye out! Not sure when it will be up since I haven't started on anything yet. 
> 
> Thank you so much for staying through it all. It's the first time I am writing this kind of story, and this long, so this was a bit of a ride. I hope you enjoyed it until the end. All the comments and kudos you guys left were deeply appreciated. Thank you again.


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